The East Berlin Affair
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon and Illya head out to investigate the world wide disappearances of top security and intelligence operatives, orchestrated by a new adversary. mild het.language  # 3 in the Saga series AU
1. Chapter 1

author's note:This story is takes place nine months after "The Mind Control Affair" and is a continuation of an on-going series of tales that are linked to Illya Kuryakin and people that have crossed his path. Again, just borrowing the men from UNCLE for fun, and not profiit.

"The East Berlin Affair"

Napoleon and Illya sat together in the office they shared at headquarters, both leaning on their desks, dog-tired; as they had just completed their fifth assignment in less than three weeks. They had not been difficult missions and most of them were "milk runs," but it was the travel time and jet lag that was catching up with the two agents.

"If I did not know any better I would say that you and I are being given busy work...these assignments really did not require the attention of a section two agent, much less both us?" Illya mumbled, as he slipped a piece of paper into the roller of the typewriter on his desk...that was as far as he got.

Solo glanced over at him." I know how you feel, I'm so tired I even cancelled a date tonight with Dolores from communications," he sighed.

"Napoleon, I have barely seen Elliott since our returning from Hawaii...I find it odd now that I think about."

"What's odd?"

"Prior to my assignment in Australia, Elliott and I had more than sufficient time available to spend together...now it seems there has been little or no time for us to see each other at all. When I am on assignment, she is not and when I am here, she is not. It has happened to so frequently that it almost seems as if there has been a deliberate hand in keeping us apart."

"Illya, that sounds just a little paranoid to me? Maybe it's just your over-tired imagination getting the better of you. I've been just as busy as you are and believe me, it's been cutting into my social life too!"

"I suppose you are right," said Kuryakin. " Paranoid...yes, but we are both that...comes with the territory, does it not? But that imaginative...I am not, though Elliott seems to think I have one lurking up here somewhere." he smiled, tapping his forehead with his index finger.

"I know I have becoming a bit forgetful as of late... there is something that I have been meaning to tell you. Elliott and I are planning to move in together." The Russian attempted to hide it, but he smiled ever so slightly.

"Whoa..Really?" Napoleon grinned at his partner, then sobered instantly," Please don't take this the wrong way, but is that such a good idea?"

"Yes I, no... correction, we think it is. Elliott and I are very much in love" Illya admitted shyly..."I think you have guessed by now. I have been staying at her place almost every night when home, so it made sense to me that we move in together... I asked her and she agreed."

"All we can do is live in the moment...living for today and not thinking about tomorrow and enjoy what time we have together. In our line of work, we do not have the luxury of planning for the future. This I think is a good compromise for the both of us."

Napoleon Solo was shocked...it was one of the most intimate and personal conversations that Illya Kuryakin ever had with him...

"If some one would have told me that Illya Kuryakin had fallen in love with a crazy red head and was going to "live in sin" with her ; I would have asked them what lunatic asylum they had escaped from?" said Napoleon." But my friend, more power to the both of you...I hope you can make it work, it's not going to be easy. And you do know Waverly's going to find out eventually." Solo cautioned,"What will you do then?

"And I would have been the first to agree with you; I never saw myself being with a woman in this way. It just goes to prove the unpredictability of our lives. I came to the realization that I should not let go of a good thing once I became fortunate enough to have it or rather her, cross my path." the Russian said happily. "And we will worry about the "old man" when that hurdle is reached."

"Good for you!" Napoleon said. He was happy for his partner but deep down inside he was feeling a bit blue, as his thoughts drifted to Clara and what might have been. She was the woman he once loved enough to want to marry, but it was his devotion to duty and UNCLE that destroyed their relationship and drove Clara away. It was just the opposite for his partner as it was UNCLE that brought he and Elliott together and their both being agents helped solidify the relationship.

In spite of having all the companionship he could ever want, Napoleon often found himself lonely. He enjoyed being around women thoroughly, and found them fascinating. But it was the loneliness that made him constantly seek out their companionship. He needed them to ground him to something real...something human. There was a void inside him left by Clara that needed to be filled.

His work was a double edged sword that always dangled above his head; driving him from having the "normal" life that at times he longed for; yet drawing him to the thrill of the challenges that faced him every time he went into the field.

He had become very accustomed to partner being around...the man having once joked "at least we have each other." At the time the remark annoyed him, but now he realized what Illya had said hit the mark.

Solo unknowingly became spoiled by the fact that his partner and best friend had always been there for him, whether it was saving his life countless times, as he had done for the Russian or going out after a tough assignment getting drunk together.

There were times that were practically joined at the hip both at work and play. Solo hid his sadness quite well behind his smile and the ever optimistic outlook that he put forward to the rest of the world to see. But it was his friendship with Illya Kuryakin that helped ease the loneliness most of all and he suspected his partner understood that.

And now the loneliness began to become omnipresent again as his friend was spending most of his free time with Elliott McGowan. He missed his partner but realized that life was moving forward just as it should and this was one change he'd have to accept.

Napoleon was not jealous, but he found himself just the slightest bit envious that someone else now had his friend's attention, as well as of the companionship that his stoic Russian had found, even though it was very well deserved.

"So when are you two going to make the move...and where to?"

"We have wanted to do it for some time...but with our schedules conflicting so drastically; it has made it impossible for us to move her things just a few blocks over to our building, as my apartment has more room than Elliott's place. The only furniture she she plans to bring with her is the bed...and I must admit I am happy about that, as it is the most comfortable mattress I have ever slept on."

"Is it the mattress or with whom you're sleeping that's making you happy?" Napoleon smiled at him.

"Maybe a little of both?" Illya blushed.

"Well if you need help let me know; I am at your service." Solo checked the time on his wristwatch."Hey what say we blow this place and go out for a bite to eat and a couple of drinks. we haven't done that in quite a while."

"Blow up headquarters?" the Russian asked in confusion.

Solo chuckled. "Illya, as well educated as you are, it amazes me after all these years that you still don't get some American colloquialisms..."blow this place" means to leave!"

"Then why did you not just say that?" said lllya" I thought you were referring to an explosive device of some sort. I know you are tired of UNCLE right now...but I did not think it was enough to want to blow it up?"

Napoleon shook his head. "Illya...I swear, you hear the word "blow" and your mind goes right to thinking of bombs! Maybe you are over-worked?"

"Napoleon, "Illya smirked." there is a much more pleasant experience that I can think of to associate with that word...but that can be rather explosive as well."

"Ha! "Solo let out a laugh" You dirty dog... you're getting slang better than I thought you were! So come on...let's go eat. Capise?" he asked Illya if he understood now, speaking Italian.

"Sì, ho capito, signore!" Illya acknowledged,"but only if we are not too late as Elliott will be home this evening. I have not seen her in over a week and we are both off tomorrow."

Not a problem, by the way your accent is improving," Solo quipped, knowing it would irk his friend.

"There is nothing wrong with my accent?"

Solo laughed..."be careful, you're getting predictable."

"Pardon me?" said Illya," what does your insulting my accent have to do with predictability... and this affront coming from you who has a French accent that remains quite awful?"

"You know what?" Napoleon rolled his eyes," Never mind...let's go."

The two agents left through the agents entrance and Del Floria's, getting into Napoleon's silver convertible parked out front and headed over to East 44th and Vanderbilt to Napoleon's current favorite restaurant " La Fonda del Sol," The Inn of the Sun.

Solo liked it not just for it's authentic Latin American cuisine, but for the lovely Latin beauties dressed in their brightly colored skirts and white peasant blouses who were employed there as waitresses.

The restaurant with its large columns overlaid with brick-patterned stainless steel, combined with a large canopy that hung in the center of the room, with its alternating panels of white and burgundy cloth delicately embroidered with bright floral patterns typical of Latino designs, gave the place an strange mix of contemporary and traditional decor. The food and the atmosphere were a refreshing change from the usual, Chinese and Italian restaurants the agents frequented.

The olive-skinned hostess with her peasant blouse slipping just off her shoulders smiled brightly, greeting the two men.

"Napoleón la bienvenida de nueva_welcome back...it has been a while since you have been here...all the ladies have been missing you!"

"Gracias Consuela," he flashed that smile of his and Illya swore the woman began to melt like butter. "this is my friend Mr. Kuryakin"

"Buenos noches,Señor." She smiled at Illya, but only had eyes for Solo.

"Your usual table?"

"But of course my dear," he nodded to her.

A bus boy, attired in a short gold gaucho jacket with embroiderd trim, and black trousers quickly filled their water glasses as the two men were seated at their table.

Napoleon ordered the house drink called a Pisco Sour made of pisco brandy, lime sugar and egg whites...shaken until the egg whites poured to a frothy white head. He preferred his with a little dash of bitters.

Illya passed on the drink thinking it looked too decadent and opted for a glass of Mosto Verde straight up, which was actually a much more expensive pisco.

The two ordered a meal of cerviche de lagostinos, papa a la Huancaína, and anitchuros de Pollo... a spicy shrimp salad with onions and red peppers, cold sliced potatoes with spicy cheese, hard boiled eggs and black olives over lettuce, and as a main course grilled smoked chicken skewers flavored with garlic, cumin and red chile peppers.

The food arrived and the began to eat, quietly enjoying it, but halfway through their meal they heard a familiar voice.

" Hello darlings"...it was Angelique.

"There goes my appetite." Illya mumbled, pushing his plate away from him. He detested the woman and resented the bizarre relationship that she a Thrush agent and his partner had.

"Illya I don't understand why you dislike me so?" she purred.

"Oh that is definitely not the word I would use." he answered, cutting right to the chase,"To what do we owe the displeasure of your company?"

The sultry blond agent ignored him and stood staring down at Solo.

"Well aren't you going to offer me a chair Napoleon? she pouted.

Solo rose offering her his seat, then pulled one from another table for himself, positioning it close to her.

Angelique took a cigarette from her small clutch bag and Solo instantly produced a Zippo lighter from his pocket, assisting her.

"Napoleon..I have some information for you about a case that UNCLE has been investigating, it is in regards to recent disappearances of top intelligence personnel...listen darling, it's not Thrush that's doing it, nor is it KGB, Stasi or any other organization that I know of. It is rumoured that it's someone independent who's being so naughty. The kidnapped agents are going to be offered up for sale to the highest bidder...brilliant idea actually," she mused, "I wish I'd thought of it myself."

"Really," Napoleon smiled at her seductively," and why this sudden generosity on your part?"

"Because my dearest...some of our people have disappeared as well...apparently we now have a common enemy, so to speak. I say we declare a truce...and see what we can do together?" she ran a polished finger nail along Solo's cheek, then suddenly looked at her gold wristwatch," I must be off now. "Bis später dan_ until later then, Napoleon? She spoke in German.

"Ganz gewiss_ most assuredly," Napoleon answered, kissing her hand.

Angelique disappeared from sight as Illya sat giving his partner a look of disapproval.

"Stop scowling at me?" Napoleon said.

"I do not trust that woman...she is Thrush. Napoleon, how you can sleep with her; I will never understand!" said Kuryakin." Has she not tried to kill you on several occasions?"

"I'm still here aren't I?" Napoleon grinned at his concerned partner." Look, we better get this wrapped up to go." he looked at his watch checking the time. "I'm going back to head quarters to look into this..."

"I will go with you."

"No...you go home. I believe you said Elliott should be back by now?

"I really should go with you to headquarters." Illya protested.

"No argument...at least you have someone to go home to. Just do it, go... live in the moment! I'm senior agent and I'm ordering you to do it."

He could see the gratitude in his friend's blue eyes as the man thanked him.

Napoleon paid the bill. Illya paid the tip, then the two of them parted ways for the evening. Illya went straight to Elliott's apartment, entering quietly.

The couple had become accustomed to each others comings and goings that codes were no longer needed. Though if Elliott was asleep when he arrived, he would whisper "Annushka" and the words in Russian..."my beloved" to alert her to his presence.

The lights were on when he walked in at nearly midnight, but at first there was no sign of Elliott; he finally located her laying on the bed, fully clothed with an ice bag on her head.

"Elliott? Are you alright?"

"Hi" she whispered," I have a fierce headache...can't get it to go away."

Illya knelt on the bed beside her, removing the ice pack; he began gently massaging her temples with the tips of his fingers, then he switched to the soft spot on her hand, a pressure point between the thumb and index finger.

"Mmmm." she moaned" that feels good." Elliott drifted off to sleep and Illya undressed her carefully, covering her with the blanket. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt then climbed into bed with her, and fell asleep instantly.

They were woken by the sound of Illya's communicator chirping at six in the morning...Sunday; they should have had the entire day to spend together in peace, but apparently that was not meant to be.

Elliott grabbed the pen from the night stand and flung it into the air but Illya reached out, catching it in mid flight.

"Nice try" he said, then answered it wearily, "Kuryakin here."

"Sorry to call you on your day off," said Napoleon," I spoke to Waverly. Looks like we have a new assignment. Apparently Angelique was on the up and up. There have been numerous disappearances of operatives from dozens of countries all across the globe, not just Europe.

"This is Angelique's fault" Illya said rubbing the sleep from his eyes," and why is it we are hearing about this from a Thrush agent and not UNCLE?"

"Now don't we be mean-spirited...gather up Elliott and we'll have some breakfast together and I'll fill you in. You and I are on a flight to Germany tonight, heading to Berlin to be precise.

"So did you suddenly find the energy to see her last night?"

Napoleon's silence answered that question for the Russian. "How about we skip breakfast then and you just fill me in on the assignment now...I want a little private time as well if you do not mind?"

"Alright, I'll give you that...it seems the individual countries involved were doing their own investigations...until a C.I.A. operative went missing last night. Waverly had the case file on his desk when I went to see him...up until now, the Berlin office has been handling the investigation keeping it somewhat detached... by the way, your friend Harry Beldon transferred there five months ago. We can go over more details on the drive to the airport; I'll pick you up at Elliott's at six o'clock...sound like a plan?"

"Yes...thanks. Kuryakin out."

Illya and Elliott remained in bed together, making love at last, though Elliott's headache returned afterwards. She wasn't feeling well and like her lover; was just a little burned out from their frequency of assignments.

Illya made her breakfast and they ate together in bed, then finally when she was feeling a little better in the afternoon; they decided to picnic at their favorite spot in Central Park as it was a beautiful sunny day.

"I wish we could get some time off,"said Elliott."I don't know about ye, but Waverly's been wearing me thin with some pretty tough missions."

The two agents made a point of never discussing the details of their missions.

"Really? Ours have been simple and somewhat tedious and it seems to me they could have been done by any section three agent." he suddenly reached out grabbing and tickling Elliott."So it is you who have been stealing all the good assignments!" He rolled her over making her laugh until he was on top of her, then lowered himself to give her a quick kiss." It is so good to be with you at last..."he spoke softly to her.

"Doesn't it seem a coincidence that ye and I are rarely here at the same time...why is that? It never used to be that way?" she said, "It's strange, almost like someone has thrown a switch turning our lives off and on?"

Illya pushed himself up, reaching into the basket for another chicken leg. "I thought that myself" he said as he began to munch on the drumstick.

"Ah, sure it's just a coincidence, after all the bad guys don't exactly schedule their ativities around us do they?"

After finishing lunch, the two leaned up against their familiar oak tree engaging in some good old fashioned "necking."

Elliott seemed uneasy to him, though he put it off to the separation and exhaustion they had both been experiencing. Elliott lay with her head resting on his chest as he held her in his arms, making her feel warm and safe.

But she was apprehensive and she was sure that Illya sensed it. There was something important that she needed to tell him and was waiting for the right moment to do so.

Their privacy was interrupted again by the sound of Illya's communicator and he opened it with a little growl "Kuryakin," he answered with annoyance in his voice.

"Sorry old chum." said Napoleon timetable change. Our flight to Berlin has been moved up...I'll pick you up in an hour."

"Der'mo_shit," Illya cursed under his breath in Russian.

"Here we go again," Elliott said wearily, sighing and opting to wait to have her talk with Illya. They gathered up their basket and blanket and headed back to Elliott's apartment.

Illya had enough clothes and a travel kit there to pack for the trip and he laid everything out on the bed before folding it neatly and into the suitcase. He checked his special then slipped it into it's shoulder holster, then put on his suit jacket, carrying the case out of the bedroom; he set it down next to the door. Napoleon would be there in a few minutes.

Elliott was not happy as he turned wrapping his arms around her, giving her a long kiss goodbye. He whispered to her in Russian..."I love you," sensing her mood, he then whispered, "it will get better."

He picked up his suitcase and disappeared out the door and Elliott watched from the window as he climbed into the yellow taxi with Napoleon, not taking her eyes off it until it drove out of view.

"Berlin'...she she hated that city with "The Wall" that was like a hideous scar across Germany; a concrete symbol of the iron curtain... Eiserner Vorhang in German, Nar Zheleznji in Russian, Zelezna' Opona in Czech, Vasfüggöny in Hungarian...Cortina de ferro in Italian... A term used by many before the wall was ever built, dating back in antiquity to the Babylonian Talmud referring to "mchitz shel barzel", an iron curtain.

It was an impenetrable barrier envisioned by Stalin and symbolized the "cold war," a war that involved no weaponry and warfare, but words and ideas. And her Illuysha was heading into that world of lies, spies and treachery...too close to his former Soviet masters for comfort.

"They should have talked before he left." she thought now regretting they had not.


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon and Illya arrived via Pan American World Airways on board a Douglas DC-8 from JFK to the Berlin-Tegel airport located northwest of the city. It had a short runway and was limited to a small number of carriers who could land there, so they were lucky being able to get a direct flight, rather than transferring at Frankfurt and taking a small local flight to Berlin.

The two agents took a cab from the airport and arriving at the West Berlin headquarters later in the evening; they headed directly to Harry Beldon's office, as he was expecting them. Glancing around the room at the same plants, statuary,paintings and such that had adorned the man's space in London, Illya felt compelled to comment.

"Harry you really need to update your interior designs...perhaps I could offer some suggestions as sometimes "minimalism," can often bring tranquility to the mind...perhaps a little Zen influence?"

"How très drôle Illya, I see you haven't lost your dry sense of humor." said Beldon."It's good to see you, it has been a long time... and you Napoleon, I hope you have been keeping well?"

The two agents seated themselves in the chairs directly in front of Beldon' s over sized oak desk, and Napoleon immediately pulled out a file from his briefcase.

Napoleon did not answer Harry, as he still bore some resentment of his treatment by Beldon in London nine months earlier.

"We are hear to discuss an on-going investigation being run out of this office, it's in regard to members of the intelligence and law enforcement communities that have gone missing recently."

"Napoleon," Harry clicked his tongue a few times. "right down to business...I think Illya has rubbed off on you a little bit? You're not even allowing me at least a social gesture or two before...how you say in America...getting down to brass tacks? May I offer you a drink...scotch on the rocks as I recall was your poison of choice and Illya of course vodka... I have a bottle of Stolichnaya?

Illya waved his hand declining the the offer and simply folded his arms across his chest sitting back to observe.

Napoleon took Harry up on his offer and when drinks were in hand he raised his glass in a toast...

"To Strum und Drang_storm and stress."

"Ah yes, Goethe...smiled Beldon, quoting Faust", You may find him everywhere...when others dance, he's got to criticize and if he fails to criticize a step, that step might just as well have not been taken."

"Perhaps then a toast to transcendence and enlightenment." Beldon added.

"Illya suddenly spoke up, quoting Faust as well. "but art is long and our life is fleeting..."

"Yes, Illya leave it to you to remain grounded in human knowledge instead of looking to gain the divine!" said Harry.

Illya paraphrased Faust again in answer, "Alas, I have studied...yet here I am a wretched fool no wiser than I was before."

"And speaking of a wretched fool...how is Miss McGowan? I hear that she has been permanently assigned to section two in New York."

"Yes, she is doing quite well," smiled Napoleon, ignoring the insult to Elliott," big mistake you made with that one Harry."

"Apparently," he said, dismissing Napoleon's remark, " so shall we get down to business then gentlemen. What can I do to be of assistance?"

"The list of people that have gone missing...have their backgrounds been analyzed?" asked Solo

Harry pulled a file from his desk drawer. There are thirty five individuals identified, actually thirty six adding the C.I.A. operative who disappeared in Frankfurt yesterday. It includes members of MI6, Interpol, Scotland Yard, the C.I.A. the American N.I.S. and F.B.I. French, Spanish, Austrian, Italian, Hong Kong, Filipino secret intelligences, Australian ASIS, Israeli Mossaud, Iran, Iraq, Egypt, Brazil,Chile, Cuba, KGB, GRU, Stasi, even Vatican security has been affected. The list goes on...

He dropped the thick file on the desk in front of Napoleon, but after putting on his tinted reading glasses; it was Illya who picked it up and began to read. He scanned through it quickly; the list read like a who's who in the world of law enforcement, security, intelligence and counter intelligence.

"Each one of these thirty six individuals is a key figure in their respective organizations, and was working on important investigations in their specific arenas. The knowledge they possess could help bring down any number of key operations around the world, not to mention their respective organizations" Kuryakin said.

"My source has indicated that the person responsible for these kidnappings is going to put these people up for auction, going to the highest bidders." said Napoleon," so obviously the motivation is money for he or she and creating world chaos."

"That sounds very much like T.H.R.U.S.H." said Beldon.

"Thrush is apparently a victim as well, as some of their people have gone missing as well."

"Really?" said Harry with a sly smile," interesting, I had not heard that...and what may I ask is your source?

"Sorry, that's confidential." Solo smiled back at him.

"I find it interesting," Illya interrupted, looking up from the file,"there are no agents from our organization on this list."

"Is that so...I hadn't noticed" shrugged Beldon.

Illya dropped the file back on the desk with deliberateness. He sensed Harry was being evasive for some reason...perhaps there was resentment towards he and Napoleon encroaching on his part of the world again.

"I will tell you this," said Beldon," every country affected has ramped up to high alert, putting security teams to back up their intelligence and law enforcement agencies. These redundancies have caused quite a disruption to the normal order or things...key people are being kept from the field, many operations world wide have come to a virtual stand still."

"And will more than likely remain that way until we discover who's the mystery guest behind the disappearances" Napoleon said.

"I would like one of my operatives to assist you on this investigation...Eric Lehrner," Beldon said. "He's been in charge of the case and I am sure his insights will be helpful. He is my top agent here and you can expect complete cooperation from him, as well from many of the embassies of the countries affected.

Kuryakin showed no reaction to the name but he was sure that it was the same Lehrner from his Survival School class, and the only other person to qualify for section two besides himself in that graduating class. Illya felt concerned about this, as there had been a definite rivalry between the two nine years ago. Eric was not a good loser and he hoped the man had changed; Illya's instincts told him he probably had not.

"I will set up a meeting for you both with Mr. Lehrner first thing in the morning...in the mean time, gentlemen get yourselves settled in our guest quarters...my secretary Miss Schmidt will show you the way.

Beldon flicked the switch on his intercom, calling his secretary into the office...she of course, caught Napoleon's attention instantly. She was a tall, golden blond and built like an hourglass. He walked beside her as they left to be escorted by up to guest quarters on the third floor.

"Guten Abend Fraülein Schmidt," Napoleon greeted her, instantly eliciting a smile and a little giggle from her." Mein name is Solo, Napoleon Solo." he smiled.

"Ja ich weiss Herr Solo_yes I know Mr. Solo, she batted her eyelashes at him, smiling." Ich bin Heidi...so, wirst du mich fragen, aus_ so are you going to ask me out...I heard from Dolores in New York, you ask all the girls to go out with you."

Illya listening in on the conversation as he walked behind the two of them, burst out laughing when he heard Heidi say that, then stopped when Napoleon turned slowly eyeing him for a second. Solo answered the girl's question,"Möchten sie mirr_would you like me to? he grinned at her.

"Ja, bitte_ yes, please?" Heidi's lips puckered when she said bitte.

"Well Fraüline...when we finish up with what we have to do here, I just might do that." he gave the tip of her up turned nose a gentle touch with his finger, ending the conversation as he and Illya entered the guest room.

Illya stood looking at his partner just shaking his head.

"Hey I still got it...what can I tell you?" Napoleon laughed," sometimes it's like moths to a flame."

"It would appear so..." Illya answered, throwing his suit case on his bed. You would think they would give us private rooms in headquarters...it is not like an expense account is involved here?"

"Napoleon looked at his wristwatch, checking the time." I have to go out for a bit...I may be a little late...very late. So the room is all yours."

"No way...Heidi? How did you..."

"No I'm meeting with Angelique again."

"And when were you going to tell me she was here?"

"I just did," Napoleon grinned as he disappeared out the door.

Solo headed out into the night air, keeping a watchful eye, turning the collar of his jacket up against the chill as he walked down the boulevard. It felt like it was there was snow in the air, and he chided himself for not bringing an overcoat...but then again the evening would more than likely get very much warmer,: he smiled to himself.

He continued along Kürfumstendamm past the many shops, elegant boutiques, the countless restaurants of the city's bustling shopping district all closed now except for a few cafés, as it was late. Solo finally reached his destination, the Kempinski Hotel Bristol, then walking to the Bristol Bar; he saw the platinum blond sitting alone at the redwood bar awaiting his arrival .

"Angelique.." he smiled, giving her a small peck on the cheek, he then slipped onto a bar stool beside her.

"It's about time you got here darling...do you know how many obnoxious drunkards I had to fend off?"

Napoleon smiled, noticing the bar was virtually empty.

She handed him a glass of scotch, she drinking a vodka martini...

"Here's to...anticipation of what is to come." she purred.

"My sentiments exactly" he smiled looking into her eyes as the two tipped their glasses together.

"I suppose you will be wanting information first?"she sighed.

"That would be most helpful."

"Alright, this is what I've found out...the auction is to take place in a weeks time. Representatives of countries and the organizations who are in contention with the countries of those being auctioned off will be in attendance..."

"And just exactly where is this to take place?"

"Napoleon...patience. I am getting to that." She slipped him a small piece of folded paper. This is a map showing the location... it is at a small abandoned military complex out in the country and will take at least two hours heading north of East Berlin by car. The population is sparely distributed so I am sure that is why the location was chosen for just that reason."

Napoleon slipped the paper into his breast pocket, then taking another sip of his scotch."So remind me, why you are being so helpful to us again" he asked warily.

"Oh Napoleon ...you are so all about business tonight. Quite devastating to a woman's ego...you are being so inattentive to me." she pouted.

Napoleon leaned over, looking her in the eyes then kissed her, long and passionately. "better?" he whispered, nibbling on her ear.

"Much...shall we go? I have a suite here in the hotel..."

"Mmmm, sounds just right." he leaned in kissing her again.

They headed up to Angelique's hotel room on the eleventh floor near the Presidential suite, offering a spectacular view of the city below. But that was not the view that Solo was interested in at the moment.

He mixed another dry martini for her, just the way she preferred it and poured himself another scotch, thinking "time to pay the piper...but oh what a pleasant piper she was."

He swallowed the scotch and pulled Angelique into his arms, kissing her hard, then she leaned arching her back, pushing her chest out towards him while raising her arms above her head. Napoleon slipped her blouse up and off quickly and with one hand undid her brassiere with a practiced flick of his fingers. Then cupping her breasts in his hands, he brought his mouth to them, teasing her nipples with his tongue.

He lifted Angelique up into his arms and carried her into the bedroom laying her down on the the over-sized bed. Kissing her body as he worked his way removing the rest of her clothing.

She grabbed his shirt, intending to rip it open..."no no" he cautioned, smiling at her.

"Silk?"

"Yes...and exploding buttons." he whispered.

He removed the rest of his clothes and knelt looking down as Angelique spread her legs offering herself to her enemy. Solo took his time pleasuring her. Then Angelique rolled over him, now being on top, as she could be quite aggressive. They took full advantage of the king size bed making love numerous times thoughout the night. It was four in the morning when Napoleon finally left her sleeping; heading back to headquarters.

It had begun to snow lightly so he hailed a taxi, deciding not to walk.

Illya was awake instantly as Napoleon quietly entered the room. " so, are you going to spare me the sordid details of your liason and tell me what

information she gave you?"

Napoleon turned on the light next to his bed and pulled the map from his pocket unfolding it and holding it under the lamp, looking it over for the first time, then handing it to his partner.

"This is the location of the auction?"he asked, pointing to the location on the map.."It is quite a remote area."

"Or so it would seem...she told me the auction to take place in a week...well less than a week now" as she had passed him the intel...last night.

"You realize she could be setting us up for a trap?" the Russian cautioned.

"That my friend goes without saying...now go back to sleep. We'll talk more in the morning.

"We have and eleven o'clock briefing with Eric Lerhner...Napoleon I did not mention this previously, but if it is the same man that I attended survival school with; then he may not be as cooperative as Harry has lead us to believe. The man has quite an ego and may see us as invading his territory...he was quite competitive when I first met him and I suspect he has not changed."

"We'll see..." Napoleon said as he crawled into bed, realizing that Illya was already asleep again. "Dammit" he thought," how does he do that?"

Napoleon and Illya sat in a small conference room with Eric Lehrner. Napoleon took note of the man's features; his air was almost white blond and he had a strong angular chin, rounded nose and piercing steel blue eyes. The perfect Aryan type. He stood at Napoleon's height, though weighed less, seemingly a quite muscular man.

"Kuryakin...it has been a long time," he spoke with a pronounced German accent." you have done surprisingly well for yourself, number two section two and assistant to a CEA...I myself am CEA here."

Illya simply agreed that it had been a long time but said nothing else in response to Lerner.

"Mr. Napoleon Solo, it is indeed a pleasure to meet you at last. I have heard quite a lot about the exploits of UNCLE's best! " he said offering his hand.

We are not always as active an office here as in New York and I am sure my talents could be served best else where...perhaps you could arrange a transfer for me to New York...I would make an excellent assistant and replacement for you when you move up to the position of Continental Chief? Perhaps you could consider this upon your return to the United States?

"Perhaps." Napoleon smiled, playing along.

Again Illya did not react to Eric's obvious slights toward him, not giving him any sort of satisfaction. Obviously Eric had not changed one bit.

"Now how can I be of assistance to you ...Napoleon?" Harry informed me that you are here to work on the case regarding the recent disappearances?"

"Yes...I have obtained information recently indicating that these kidnap victims are to be auctioned off to the highest bidder in less than a week. This could have devastating affects on the security of the governments of the countries involved."

"I had not heard of this in my investigations...what is your source?"

"Sorry, that is confidential and can't be revealed." Napoleon said.

"Then may I ask, is it a reliable source?"

"Yes" Napoleon spoke seriously," It is a source that I have taken advantage of before and it is a very, very good one."

Illya hid a smile, suddenly scratching his nose with his hand.

"We're going to need a cover to cross over into East Berlin, as the location is approximately 160 km. north out of the city. And a reliable car as well." Napoleon said to Lerhner.

"Fine...no problem. You are going to include me in the operation of course; it's only fair as it is originally my case, and you will need some one who knows the lay of the land."

Illya said nothing...even though he was quite familiar with East Berlin and the surrounding districts from his days in the GRU. He still maintained a few contacts in the area as well. Napoleon had been there previously as well.

Napoleon glanced at his partner for any signs of rejection, but received none. "Alright Eric, fair is fair. You're in."

"Ausgezeichnet, danke_excellent , thank you!" Eric smiled." give me an hour or so to organize our cover...in the mean time have some lunch in the dining room. They are serving mushroom stuffed Rouladen with spätzle and winter vegetables and I assure you our chef is quite talented...now if you will excuse me I will see to the details of the mission."

They headed to the Berlin equivalent of the commissary, though more cozy and less sterile than the one in New York.

Illya spoke as they dug into the Rouladen."Why do we not have food such as this in New York?" he paused; savoring the flavor for a moment." this is excellent."

"Napoleon chuckled...if his partner who would eat just about anything said it was good...then it had to be.

"We'd have to get rid of Charlie first." Napoleon remarked," the man thinks he's still cooking for the troops in Korea. I have never seen Waverly step one foot near the commissary...I wonder if he knows how bad it can be?"

"How could he," Illya smiled," his meals are brought in by private caterer.

"Ah rank hath it's priviledges." Solo said, finishing the last of his meal.

An hour later they were back at Lerhner's office looking at sets of black religious robes hanging on a rack. He handed Napoleon and Illya diplomatic passports from the Vatican.

You Napoleon are Bishop Carlo Simonelli attaché to the Holy See, and you Kuryakin are merely secretary to the Bishop, named Pavel Kazinski from Poland, "another dig at Illya." Solo thought.

I am Franz Moeller your assistant, Napoleon. We will be travelling with these documents," he said handing them to Solo. "They are our instructions from the Vatican to visit Monsignor Clemens Renner the pastor of St. Hedwigs. He has been ill and may be retiring soon. We will be traveling as the Vatican envoy to discuss this retirement."

Napoleon was eyeing the Bishops black cassock, trimmed in violet, and having an integrated shoulder cape, different from the simple black cassocks that Illya and Eric would wear.

"Couldn't you have chosen a less obvious cover?" Solo asked, picking up the violet fascia and skull cap. He was familiar with the non-liturgical vestments, having been raised Catholic.

"This will actually allow us easy travel as the border has become accustomed to to frequent crossings by Roman Catholic clergy and seem to be tolerated." Eric said, "The Berlin Diocese never adjusted it's boundaries after the wall went up and still refuses to participate in State Ceremonies on the Eastern side of the Wall. The church has provided us with a Mercedes bearing the Vatican insignia and diplomatic flags.

"The KGB will be watching us." Illya suddenly spoke" they have a particular aversion to the Catholic Church because of their strong influence over a good portion of the population... I find it interesting Eric that you have chosen a Polish identity for me, as there is a Father Karol Wojtyla who has quite a contentious relationship with KGB back in Poland."

"We will travel directly to St. Hedwig's Cathedral, exactly where we said we would...I am sure they will abandon us at that point." Lehrner said.

Illya knew better and decided to discuss otherwise with Napoleon once they were away from Eric. The man's continued insults and innuendos were not lost on him, and there was something about Eric that made the Russian not trust him completely.

They brought the vestments up to their rooms, slipping them on over their street clothes. Their specials would be well hidden, but they would not have quick access to them, so they both strapped on their back up pistols to ankle holsters.

Napoleon stood in front of a full length mirror as he wrapped and straightened the violet sash around his waist, he placed the purple zuchetto on his head, then lastly he placed the large pectoral cross over his head, letting it drape across his chest. He stepped back straightening the short black cape on his shoulders...

"God...if my mother could see me now? he smiled, " I think she always wanted me to be a priest."

"You a priest?" Illya smiled," Heaven forbid." Illya slipped on the the black priest's cassock, placing a black sash around his waist, The clothing made him look thinner and his boyish features made him appear even younger.

Solo looked at his partner."Well at least it's your favorite color?"

"Black is the absence of color Napoleon and therefore not a color, but yes, you are correct I do prefer black. One does not have to worry about making things match when dressing."

"Then what's your excuse for that awful burgundy blazer of yours?"

Illya ignored the remark. " I do not think I am comfortable letting Eric lead us around once we cross the first checkpoint. I am very familiar with East Berlin as are you. I think we need to maintain control.

As far as the KGB is concerned though...I think Eric is incorrect in his assumption; they will stay with us, unless we lose them. I have several contacts in East Berlin that I have maintained over the years and we can use their help getting out of the city."

"You were right about Lehrner, he's got an ego alright and is definitely ambitious." Napoleon said." we'll have to keep and eye on him to make sure he doesn't step out of line."

"Bishop Simonelli and Father Kaminski were joined by Eric Lehrner, now in character as Father Franz Moeller; they headed down to the the secure garage level and the agent in charge tossed the keys to a black Mercedes toward Lehrner, but Illya reached out catching them himself. "I will drive." the Russian announced.

Lerhner looked indignant. "Are you sure you know the way?"

"Eric... I was working in East Berlin for GRU before you even dreamt of joining UNCLE." Illya finally snapped at him.

"Oh well, then that is good then, as secretary to the Bishop yours is the more menial roll."

Napoleon watched as his partner's jaw tightened, and readied himself for the Russian to take a swing at the German...but Illya resisted the urge; simply getting in behind the wheel of the car.

The Mercedes pulled out slowly from the garage heading up Kurfüstendamm Boulevard in the direction of Brandenberger Tor, the German name for the Brandenburg Gate which was less than a mile from headquarters. Then Illya turned onto Strasse des 17 Juni driving through Tiergarten Park around the street circle past the towering statue of Siegessäule, the statue of victory with it's red granite base and golden winged statue of Victoria. Berliners had a nick name for her..."Goldelse," roughly meaning "Golden Lizzy."

And then they neared the Brandenburg Gate, modeled after the Greek Acropolis with the imposing statue of Eierene, the goddess of peace...a winged woman driving a chariot drawn by four horses who loomed over all who approached the Tor. The presence of "Die Mauer_the Wall," it's 124 mile length was oppressively present like a jagged scar across the city. It was covered with garish graffiti on the Western side as people could walk right up to it... But it was studded by guard towers and gun placements. There was barbed wire everywhere and an armored water cannon vehicle sat before the gate, it's turrets directed at the western side.

Illya pulled the car up slowly to the check point then stopped, putting it in park, handing their papers and travel documents to the armed soldier who eye-balled each of them. He walked away with their documents showing them to a man dressed in civilian clothes, who looked back at them sitting in the car.

" KGB." whispered Kuryakin.

The soldier returned, handing their paper work back to Kuryakin.

"Mozna prejs'c' teraz ojca_you can move on now Father, the man said in Polish waving them to move on.

"Thank you my son." Father Kaminski answered, speaking Polish as well.

Illya put the car into gear, pulling away and the three agents breathed a collective sigh...but they were not home free yet as they still had to pass other checkpoints. Illya looked in the rear view mirror. "Do not look now...but we have company." he said, seeing a dark colored BMW pulling up behind the Mercedes; it had not been in line at the check point.

The last thing they saw before passing through the gate was a large white sign. "ACHTUNG! Sie verlassen jetzt WEST-BERLIN_warning that if you pass this place, then you leave West Berlin."

They had now enered into East Berlin, a city where spies flourished, there information and disinformation flowed like the Danube.

To Napoleon Solo this was possibly the most sordid place in the veiled world of the spy game. It was the city of illusion and deceit and now they were within it's grasp.


	3. Chapter 3

Once past the Brandenburg Gate the road became Unter den Linden and Illya stayed on it until he reached Friederichstrasse which was unfortunately bisected by the wall and would mean another check point. There he turned south until they finally reached the well known Checkpoint Charlie, in the American sector; Illya again handing their documents over.

"Howdy Padré," smiled the American soldier," kind of late for ya'll to be travelling ain't it?"

Illya, now wearing a pair of wire rimmed spectacles to make himself appear more ineffectual, let them slide down on his nose as he spoke.

" We are transporting Bishop Simonelli of the the Vatican to see Father Renner at the Kathedrale, who is quite ill." said Illya with a heavy Polish accent.

"Hey wow...you're Polish ain't ya? Sound just like my babci... I miss her my grandma. "Say, I wonder Padré if you wouldn't mind giving me a blessing?"

Illya felt a moment of panic...he knew no prayers, and did not even remember the ones in Russian from his childhood.

"Perhaps his Excellency the Bishop would care to utter a few words of blessing?"Illya raised his voice, and taking the hint Napoleon rolled down the rear window of the Mercedes. "Yes, my son." he smiled at the soldier.

The soldier removed his hat, blessing himself with the sign of the cross as Napoleon spoke," In nomine Patris de Filii et Spiritus sancti_ In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost...then proceeded to say a quick prayer asking God to bless the soldier and keep him safe...In o quaesumus Patris caelestis. Amen_in which we beseech thee O heavenly Father. Amen"

"Thank you your Padré," He said handing the travel papers back to Illya.

"God be with you my son." Solo answered, making the sign of the cross with his hand. The Illya then drove the car towards the Cathedral that was but a thousand metres away from the checkpoint.

There was another stark pronouncement posted in English, Russian, French and German stood in front of them...

YOU ARE LEAVING THE AMERICAN SECTOR.

VY POKIDACTE AMRIKANSKII SEKTOR

VOUS SOURTEZ DU SECTEUR AMERICAIN

SIE VERLASSEN DEN AMERIKANISCHEN SEKTOR

"Napoleon...I did not know you spoke Latin?" Illya said.

"I guess twelve years of Catholic school and Mass twice a week counted for something...are our friends still behind us?"

"Still there."

"You can pull in along side the Kathedral...there." Eric said pointing to space along the sidewalk directly in front of the church.

Sankt-Hedwigs-Kathedral in the neighborhood of Berlin-Mitte, was rebuilt only a few years earlier, having been reduced to burning embers in 1942. It was reconstructed in the baroque style after the Pantheon in Rome, towering over the buildings that surrounded it, with it's large copper dome, stone appointed column with sculptures of angels and the Virgin Mary on it's facade. Named in honor of Brandeburg and Silesia's patron Saint Hedwig of Andechs. The three agents passed a small statue of the saint that stood in front of the Kathedral as they entered.

Illya glanced back, looking at the BMW that had parked about twenty yards away in the plaza. He could see the glow of their cigarettes in the dark and the smoke drifting up through an open fly window... there were two of them.

A young priest, thin with blond hair, greeted them in German as they entered.

"Guten abend Väter, Eure sind zu erwarten_good evening Fathers, your Excellency. You are expected."

The agents were a little surprised at that remark, but did not react.

Maintaining their cover Eric spoke "This is his Excellency Bishop Simonelli, I am his assistant Father Moeller." he paused." oh and yes this is the secretary, Father Kaminski.

"I am Father Damien...Father Renner is waiting for you in his office, if you would be so kind as to follow me?" He lead them to a small room off to the side of the sacristy, opening he door he let them in, then waited outside.

A priest with dark hair, similar in look and build to Napoleon, but a little grey at his temples, was seated at a small desk.

"Hello gentlemen, I am Father Renner." the man spoke with a soft French accent." It's alright, I know that you are from UNCLE you don't have to worry about your covers here."he smiled.

Napoleon feigned ignorance speaking with a heavy Italian accent.."Ima sorry Father...I do not understanda what you are talking about?'

"It's alright Mr. Solo...Alexander Waverly is an old friend of mine, my father and he worked together during the war. I received word from him via Vatican security regarding the situation...it is the head of Vatican security is among the missing. So how may I be of service?"

Napoleon's entire demeanor changed now as he addressed the priest.

"Father we have a little problem of the KGB shadowing us at the moment; they're parked out in the plaza as we speak... and there's not much we can do until we get rid of them. We have to be especially careful, as we don't want them to get their hands on my friend here" he said pointing to Illya.

"Ah yes Mr. Kuryakin...this is a very dangerous place for you to be considering the preponderance of KGB agents..."

Eric spoke up..."Father Renner, we need to hide out here until the KGB gets tired of waiting and decides to leave. May we impose upon your hospitality until that happens?"

"Why of course my son...Mr. Lerhner, correct? I will have Father Damien prepare tea and something to eat, as the KGB can sometimes be interminably patient."

Illya and Napoleon glanced at each other silently.

Two hours later, Illya peeked out the front door of the Kathedral...the KGB agents were still there and an idea came to mind. He returned to the office with a proposal to remedy the problem of their tail.

"They are not leaving" he announced, upon his return to the office." and I tire of this waiting game. I have and idea how we can lose them...Father Renner if you were to change into the Bishop's vestments; you could very easily pass for Napoleon. Father Damien resembles me and Eric, you could accompany them back to the Mercedes...drive off into the city and KGB will follow."

Napoleon and I can leave on foot, having shed our religious clothing.

"No Mr. Kuryakin,"said Father Renner," I have a car you can use, it is too risky to travel on foot this time of night as the Stasi like to do sweeps in the evening, picking up any stragglers on the streets thinking they are up to no good."

Eric was not happy..."So you are dumping me from the mission Kuryakin, how typical of you always trying to get the better of me and show me up even after all these years!" he snarled.

Illya finally lost is patience as he grabbed Eric by the front of his cassock, driving him back against the office wall. "This mission is not about you, or me Eric so shut your mouth, get over it and do as you are told." he spoke coldly in a low voice, shoving the man back as he released him.

"Hey knock it off you two!" Napoleon said, but secretly he would have loved to have seen his partner knock the man's block off."Eric, you are not out of the game" Napoleon said,"I'll contact you when and where we are to meet up. In the mean time you stay with Father Renner...that is an order."

Eric nodded to Solo straightening his cassock, glaring at Kuryakin.

"Gentlemen," smiled Father Renner," I think we can lead the KGB on a merry chase...It would be remiss of a Bishop visiting from the Vatican not to pay his respects to our Protestant friends at Berlin Kathedral...that will take us up all the way back north near Brandenburg gate. But we will not drive the Friedrichstrasse. I think a more scenic route along the local streets, for the benefit of the Bishop to do some late night sightseeing would be in order."

"Father...you sure you're not a spy?" Napoleon smiled, as he stripped off the Bishops robes, handing them to the priest.

"One never knows in this city...Napoleon." the priest smiled at him again.

Father Renner now dressed in the Bishop's robes bore a surprising resemblance to Napoleon and because it was dark, once Father Damien combed his hair to resemble Illya's and added the wire spectacles; he too would pass inspection. Illya handed the priests their travel documents and passports, knowing that he and Napoleon now had the need to become invisible, as they had no documentation and if caught, would be executed immediately. But he had a friend who could solve that problem for them.

Solo and Kuryakin waited twenty minutes or so before exiting the church, seeing the KGB tail had fallen for the the ruse and headed for a dark green Volvo parked in front of the the priests residence located a hundred yards or so away from the Kathedral.

"Now where to...you said you had some contacts?'

"Yes," smiled the Russian,"We go to visit the KGB."

"What? Are you crazy?" Napoleon blurted out.

"Trust me." answered Illya as he started the Volvo, driving off into the dark streets. They traveled through the Mitte district, a poor section of the city, a mix of gutted, burned out tenements and poor housing. The wall was not visible as Illya and Napoleon drove along the poorly lit streets, but it's presence was still felt more so in this part of the city. Suffocating it and the people making them feel like animals caged in by a demented and ever present master.

Kuryakin finally pulled up on a side street, turning the engine off.

"Wait here," he said as he got out of the car. He walked to the door of a small apartment, knocked then waited, then knocked again. And Napoleon felt a moment of panic as when the door opened, a huge pair of arms reached out grabbing Illya by the shoulders, pulling him inside.

Solo reached for his weapon ready to charge to his partner's rescue, when a moment later Illya's head reappeared out the door, waving him to come in. When he walked inside, he came face to face with a rather large, bearded man.

"Napoleon..."Illya spoke,"this is my friend, Boris Gurov. "Boris, this is my partner and friend, Napoleon Solo."

Gurov offered his immense hand to Napoleon, speaking in a deep voice. "It is good to know the volchonok_wolfcub has a friend in you. I have heard stories about you" he said returning his attention to Illya"...is it true that GRU let you join U.N.C.L.E.?

"Let Boris?" Illya smiled," since when does GRU let an operative do anything...It was given as a choice to me, but you know what happens when you do not choose the way your superiors wish you to...It did however, turn out to be a very good move for me."

Boris let out a loud belly laugh..."Yes it is as I expected then! So tell me Illya Nickovich, what are you doing in East Berlin? It is a very dangerous place for you to be given that you have many enemies, since you have seemingly "gone to the other side. I hear Vicktor Karkoff has it out for you.. I understand he was stationed in the gulag for a while."

"That Boris Ivanovich," said Kuryakin," is a tale for another time..."

"Come, sit." said Boris directing them to his living room. He pulled out a bottle of vodka and poured them generous drinks.

"Illya Nickovich it is very good to see you...so are you married yet?"

"No Boris, not married..."

"Ah, but I can see by the look in your eyes there is a woman in your life."

Kuryakin smiled, but remained silent.

"Is she Russian?" asked Boris" Ah, it does not matter...you should marry her and make fat babies...get out of this business while you are still young!"

"No, she is not Russian."

"And you Boris...you still work the checkpoints for KGB...I would have thought you would be a much higher rank by now?"

"Illya Nickovich, you will learn as you get older what matters more. Better I stay under the radar...as the Americanskii say, less problems with KGB bosses.

"And how is Olga?" Illya asked downing the last of his drink.

"My Olga gave me six beautiful Soviet citizens before she left me...

"I am sorry to hear that Boris, when did she die?"

"Die?" Boris let out another hearty laugh,"Nyet! She left me...I was not ambitious enough to suit her. I have a new wife now...Mara Simnova, who is fat with a new baby on the way!"

Napoleon, who had remained quiet finally cleared his throat." I hate to interrupt this little reunion...but Boris, am I to take it that you are a member of the KGB?"

"That is correct."

"So why aren't you holding a gun to Illya's head right now?"

He laughed..."Apparently my friend Illya has not told you of me? We go back to the days of his training in GRU...I was one of his instructors. We discovered that we were both of like minds when it came the Soviet system of government as well as our Soviet masters. We learned to play the game, letting them hear the words they wanted and think we had been indoctrinated with their mindless dogma."

"Boris was a good man to have my back while working for Soviet Intelligence." Illya added.

"And you mine tovarisch." added Boris, raising his glass to Kuryakin.

"Well it's nice to know that all KGB are not the "bad" guys," Napoleon commented.

Illya scowled. "No Napoleon...there are actually more of them than you think. KGB is a frighteningly efficient arm of the government, but not all it's members...like the Russian people are proponents of all Communist doctrine. We just know enough to keep our thoughts to ourselves...some of the time," he smiled.

Napoleon reminded himself that he'd no longer thought of Illya as a Communist, still a legal Soviet citizen as well as an officer in the Russian military, but this was a stark reminder what his partner still was.

"Now I know you are not here for a social call, so tell me what can Boris Ivanovich do for you?" He refilled his and Illya's glass, but seeing Solo's glass barely touched, he topped it off with a little more vodka.

"We need travel documents, as we have to leave the city." Illya said.

"No problem." smiled the big Russian, "What do you want...will farm worker documents do or perhaps machine worker.

"How about both?" Napoleon said.

Boris laughed..."Yes better to be safe," then he eyed the way they were dressed in black pants and turtlenecks.

"Those clothes will not do." he said."you look too much like spies."

Just then a very pregnant blond woman waddled down the stairs, one hand on the railing the other supporting her lower back.

"Ah this is my beautiful wife Mara!" the man beamed,"Mara these are old friends Kolya and Anatoly."

"Hello" she smiled" Boris, you should have told me we had company? I will prepare food."

"No please that isn't necess..." Napoleon started to say.

"Shush" whispered Illya," It is very insulting to refuse a hostess when offering food."

"Yes, spacibo, that would be lovely." Napoleon corrected himself.

"Mara, you still have some of your brother's clothes upstairs...my friends suitcases were stolen and they have no clothes suitable for work tomorrow?"

"Yes Boris,"she called from the kitchen" they are in a trunk under the bed."

Mara beckoned from the kitchen for them to come in to eat. In no time at all, she had warmed shie postnie, a vegetable soup, syrniki pan-fried patties made from tvorog and served with honey, and apple piroshky with cheese and soured cream.

"Please, eat." Mara smiled" do not wait for Boris...he eats too much! But you both are too skinny...eat!" she said, mainly eyeing Illya.

Boris appeared a short while later carrying clothes for both of them as well as the documents.

"Good you have eaten...none for me though," he laughed patting his belly," my wife says I am getting too fat! Here,"he tossed the clothes to them, go change upstairs and then we talk more."

Illya and Napoleon disappeared up the stairs then returned, dressed in simpler clothes flannel shirts with woolen jackets and caps, looking very much like working class men.

"That is much better."pronounced Boris,"now you stay tonight and leave to where ever your journey takes you in the morning enh?"

Kuryakin looked to his partner who shook his head in agreement.

Mara brought them extra pillows and blankets and Boris pulled out a small military style cot and the two agents bedded down for the night.

They flipped for it and Napoleon got the couch and went to sleep while Illya stayed awake drinking vodka and talking old times for a while with his old teacher.

Illya woke just before dawn, rousing Napoleon. Boris heard them stirring and came down to the kitchen putting on a strong pot of coffee, and gave them a quick breakfast of brown bread and kashi before they prepared to leave. He warned them where additional security check points would be set up in the city that day allowing in the agents to skirt around them. Their papers were good, but better not to take a chance.

They brought their own clothes with them, tossing them out of sight in the boot of the car and began their journey out of the city, having to travel by convoluted in directions, down side streets and back roads that sometimes took them far out of their way.

Forcing Illya double back several times in order to get them on the right track. The trip according to the original map given to Solo by Angelique indicated their destination was 160 km. or so out of the city and should have taken approximately two hours to travel...but with all the detours and backtracking they had already been traveling for nearly two hours and had not left the outskirts of the city.

"Are you sure you know where you are going?" Napoleon asked," because I haven't a clue now myself? I've never travelled this way before."

"I have a fair idea where we are...we will make one more stop at another of my contacts...if memory serves me correctly, he should be at the next...yes here it is." the Russian said.''

"Why do we need to stop?" asked Solo

"To ask directions from a friendly, reliable source...come on." he answered.

Illya lead his partner through the entrance of a small cabaret...

A small, slender man obviously not young, dressed in a tuxedo with tails, wearing spats and his face white with pancake makeup came rushing towards them...

"He looks like he had just stepped out of the roaring twenties," Napoleon thought to himself.

"Neine, neine! Tut mir leid, wir bis neute Abend haben geschlossen! No no, I'm sorry we are closed until this evening. You must leave...

The man suddenly looked at Illya's face, letting out a high pitched squeal of delight. "Mein Gott bist du es...is it really you Nicky?"

"Hello Freddie." smiled the Russian.

"I can't believe it...look how you have grown up my Schatzi! He grabbed the Russian in a hug then embraced him, kissing Illya on either cheek.

"I heard you were dead my leibling! Freddie said," killed off by that awful Vicktor fellow...but since you are here in front of my eyes; then the story mustn't have been true!

Freddie suddenly eyed Napoleon." And who is your charming friend, my dear Nicky?"

"Oh pardon my rudeness," Illya said," Freddie Austerlitz this is my friend Antonio Solista.

"Charmed Signor Solista...any friend of my darling Nicky's is a friend of mine. Nicky, this surely can't be a social call after all theses years...it must be over ten years since I last saw you," he clicked his tongue," you were such a small skinny thing, what were you seventeen? And now look at you all grown up...you're still too skinny though!'

"It is closer to fifteen years...I am sorry Freddie, we do not have time to catch up as Antonio and I are on a time schedule and have gotten ourselves a little lost...we need to get out of the city up to the north. Which way is the best and safest way to go from here?"

"Pity you don't have time to stay and visit with old Freddie...but it's still wonderful to know that you are among the living my süsse_sweet.

Now if you just stay on this road for about 5 km, then take the next right turn, that will take you directly out of the city and north...but why you'd want to go there I couldn't imagine...there is nothing there but some farms and disgusting abandoned bunkers and such."

"Funny, you should say that,"smiled Napoleon,"we are heading out that way to see a man about a...horse auction."

"Ah now that makes sense then." answered Freddie," à bientôt, j'espère_soon, I hope, dear Nicky." Freddy smiled touching his hand tenderly to Illya's cheek.

"Merci mon ami." Illya smiled."Au revoir."

Napoleon and Illya piled into the car and headed down the road as Freddie had directed.

"So you going to tell me what he was all about...Nicky?" Napoleon smiled

"Not a chance in hell, my friend." the Russian mumbled, looking ahead at the road.

They continued on, finally making it out of the city proper, as the landscape began to change snow had finally changed from flurries and was beginning to fall steadily now. Just as they thought the rest of the trip would be just a little easier; they hit a major snag... a road block.

Two soldiers approached the Volvo one aiming a rifle directly at them, the other shouting...demanding their papers...Illya handed the farm-worker documents to him immediately.

"Namen!

"Mine name ist Aurel Fürst," Illya answered.

"Und mine name ist Hartwin Baasch," chimed Solo.

The soldier grabbed the papers from Illya's hands, walking back to a staff car where an officer waited with a clipboard and thick file. He took a few steps toward the Volvo, staring at Solo then Kuryakin. He began thumbing through the file hurriedly, looking up staring at the Russian several times.

"Chort_damn! "Illya cursed quietly in Russian...if he recognizes me then I am fucked...Napoleon, you have to get out of here." he then whispered to his partner.

"Let's give it a second and see how it plays out."Napoleon whispered calmly.

The officer barked an order to his men and they raised their rifles pointing them directly at Solo and Kuryakin."

"AUS DEN AUTO! they shouted "Hände hoch euc beiden!_OUT OF THE CAR! Hands up both of you!"

They stepped from the car slowly, putting their hands above their heads as the wind blew the snow across their faces.

The officer raised his pistol aiming it at the Russian's head.

"You are Illya Kuryakin...an enemy of the State and the Soviet people!"


	4. Chapter 4

Her assignment was a simple one for her but a job that could not be done by just anyone; it took someone special for this sort of task. A man had to die.

She walked with the wind blowing falling snow into her face as she disappeared among the trees. Then when reaching the edge of the woods; she lay down settling in, readying herself as she pulled back the bolt on her Winchester 70 sniper rifle, loading a single round into the chamber. This would be an easy shot.

The men stepped out, raising their hands, one of them...her target, was unknowingly meeting his maker in but a few seconds. Looking through the scope she zeroed in on him, the blond one... and squeezed the trigger gently. The bullet struck him directly in the head and she presumed confidently that he fell dead to the ground.

She smashed the rifle against a large tree, breaking it into pieces, grabbing them and scattering the remnants as she ran quickly back through the woods, exiting the far side of the park to the street.

Chaos erupted as sirens wailed, police vehicles screeched up and down the strasse and suddenly there were soldiers and security everywhere.

"Bonze...Bonzie!" she called, pulling out a dog leash from her pocket as a soldier ran towards her. "Can you help me please?" she spoke in German," my dog has broken his lead and run away."

"Mädchen nach Hause gehen_go home girl! "Hat jemand nur den kanzler ermodet_someone has just assassinated the new Chancellor!" He shouted in German. Raus mädchen schnell_ get out girl quickly!

Elliott McGowan took off away from the park heading down the street and around the corner, getting into a black Volkswagen that was parked nearby.

"Done...let's get out of here,"she said out of breath," drive casually...but hurry."

"Make up your mind... you want slow or fast already?" the driver spoke with a slight accent.

"How about moderately then?" she said.

"That I can do" Ari smiled" So you going to tell me what just happened?"

"No?"

Ari Ziv had already learned that when his new partner was tight-lipped about something, it was useless to to pursue it any further. She was a smart, stubborn woman, with just a bit of a temper...though he had heard rumors it was worse when she first came to New York from London. She was just the kind of woman he was used to working with back in Israel with Mossad; single-minded and determined. And now Waverly had paired him with her, one of only two female agents in section two, assuming that his experience working with such women had been the qualifying factor. He had been teamed with Elliott Mc Gowan for the last few missions but it had not yet been determined if theirs was going to be a permanent partnering.

It was three years now since Ari had been recruited to U.N.C.L.E. by Alexander Waverly, as his father had known the man while fighting with the resistance during the war in Europe. Waverly had helped many a Jew escape the murderous hands of the Nazis while working as an operative for British SIS, the Secret Intelligence Service and Ari felt honored working for this man and his organization.

Elliott reached out, turning on the car radio as they drove down the boulevard. There was a rather excited broadcast being made...an announcement that the newly elected Chancellor of Germany had just been assassinated in Bonn as he had stepped out onto a snowy balcony to give a his acceptance speech, acknowledging his victory to the crowds that waited below in the the plaza.

"Did you have a hand in that?" Ari asked.

"Now...why would ye think that?"

"Well we were just near where it happened and you came running around the corner all out of breath..."

"Ari...did I not tell ye I was dropping off flowers ta Mr. Waverly's sister for him? Did ye not see me get out of this car with a box of long stem roses? When I was coming back down there were solders everywhere and they told me to get off the street...so of course I was going ta get ta the car in a hurry was I not?"

"Yes I suppose you are right, sorry Elliott."

She pulled out her communicator "Open channel R-overseas relay- Waverly...Azriel." was the only word she said, then closed the pen, putting it back in her pocket.

"Azriel? That is the name of the angel of death in the bible...one of the archangels as I recall." Ari said."Come on Elliott...the Chancellor gets killed and you just say the name of the angel of death to Waverly using the restricted channel I might add... well it seems more than a little coincidental is all I'm saying?"

"Jay-sus, Ari you are just too nosy today are ye not...that is the woman's married name and I was told to use it for the code when letting the "old man" know when the flowers were delivered. Apparently it is her birthday? Satisfied?"

She knew she was being short with him and apologized, "Look I've had a lot of assignments lately and I'm really knackered beyond belief, I'm sorry for snapping at ye. I don't know what's wrong with me...I'm not feeling well lately. I'm thinkin' I need a break...I'll have ta have a chat with the "old man" when we get home."

"What is knackered?

"It means I'm tired."

"Oh, like oysgemartert?"

"What is that?

"It's Yiddish for tired, worn out."

"Osgemartert," she repeated," aye, that's what I am alright," she smiled.

Her communicator suddenly chirped and she answered it quickly,

"McGowan here,"

"Yes, Miss McGowan. I received your message. Thank you for taking care of it. You and Mr. Ziv can return to New York on the next available flight. Waverly out."

"Thank God he didn't send us out on another assignment. You definitely need a break, "said Ari."How many has he sent you on in the last six months.

"Ye know I've lost count. I'm just glad ta be heading back ta New York...home James, and don't spare the horses." she smiled.

"Lady, you have been watching too many American movies lately."

Elliott smiled as she closed her eyes, truly surprised at how tired she really felt. She was looking forward to seeing her Russian and missed him terribly. It seemed as though since they had gotten together, they hardly had time to spend with each other...

She thought she had nearly lost him him once, after he disappeared on a mission that began in Australia as he tracked a Thrush arms shipment; nearly ending up a castaway on an atoll in the Pacific. She had been devastated by the news when UNCLE had him declared dead after the freighter he was on sank and all hands were lost at sea. Yet his partner Napoleon kept her hopes alive, as he was the only one that never gave up on finding Illya and finally helped rescue his partner from the island.

Her Illuysha had written her a love letter before he'd left on that long mission and she'd found it after UNCLE had proclaimed him gone forever. It was in the numbness of losing him she realized how very much she loved Illya Kuryakin and how much he had loved her.

She dozed off in the car, dreaming of her Russian holding her in his arms, kissing her...making love to her, his hands and lips moving slowly across her body...his strong rhythmic movements as he...

"Elliott...Elliott?" she woke hearing her name.

"That must have been some dream...if I didn't know better I would have thought you were dreaming about getting a little shtup, the way you were moaning." Ari laughed.

"Shtup?"

"Sex, bubbellah...sex." he smiled,

Elliott blushed."No ye are wrong. I was having...a bad dream. Have ye ever been tortured Ari?"

"Happy to say I have not had that experience!

"Well I have and I still have dreams about it from time to time, I guess more so when I'm a wee bit tired." She was getting so good at lying.

Elliott though proficient in many languages still had to get used to this 'Yiddish" that popped up Ari's his conversations. Though he had been raised in Israel, his mother was apparently from Brooklyn in America and it was she who taught it to him; with it's interesting fusion of German dialects along with Hebrew, Aramaic,Slavic and even some of the romance languages. Elliott's background in linguistics had her intrigued by it, as she could hear some of the influences of familiar languages that she already spoke.

"I'm sorry Elliott. I need to stop second guessing you."said Ari," I am doing a terrible job of it... made it into a real mishegoss, sorry. I will remind myself not to do next time."

"Misegoss Ari?"

"It means inappropriate... a crazy belief."

If only she could have told him that his instincts were spot on and he had guessed right every time about her actions...This man had good head on his shoulders and she would be sure to speak of that when Waverly requested an evaluation of Ari Ziv's performance.

"No...that's alright Ari, ye keep making a "mishegoss" anyway, ye'll get me right eventually." she winked, telling him that to keep his enthusiasm from being dampened.

It was an easy drive from Bonn to the Colongne/Bonn international airport, roughly just under 38km. and when they arrived the managed to catch a flight an board British Midland Airways that was departing in under an hour, flying to Heathrow airport in London. From there they would make a change over to a Boeing 707 bound for JFK in New York.

Elliott sighed in relief, settling into her seat as the stewardess offered her something to drink.

"Something relaxing...maybe a nice hot cup of tae?" she requested.

"Absolutely Miss...we will be serving hot beverages once the Captain has gotten us up to cruising altitude."

She closed her eyes again, rubbing her temples as she had a bit of headache, then reached into her briefcase for a bottle of aspirin. She didn't want to wait for a glass of water and she dry swallowed several of the bitter tasting tablets, then popped a piece of hard candy into her mouth to mask the flavor. Elliott then set her mind to wondering if Illya would still be there when she arrived home. She had just spoken to him via land line, hearing that he was just as tired as she and that he would happily be home to at last see her for a few days.

She slept for a good portion of the flight, being woken by Ari when their meal was being served...chicken Kiev or fish? She ordered the chicken, chuckling to herself that the name reminded her of Illya. Ari ordered the fish...but when it arrived, the smell of it suddenly made her nauseous and she immediately headed to the lavatory to be sick, her head pounding with another headache.

She returned to her seat looking pale and drawn.

"You are not looking well...I hope you plan to go straight to medical and have Dr. Schneider check you out. God forbid you should give me what ever you are coming down with, as I have a date with a really svelte Shiksa and I don't want to have to cancel!" he laughed.

"My God, avez-vous été traîner_ have ye been hanging around Napoleon Solo?" she laughed, switching to French.

"Oh mais oui, un peu_ yes, a little bit, he's a great guy...Elliott, I think he likes you a bit, he's always checking up on you to make sure you're alright."

She smiled when she heard that. Napoleon had become a good friend and had guarded she and Illya's secret faithfully.

Their flight landed on time early Saturday morning and the two agents grabbed a taxi, heading straight to headquarters in the East Forties.

They walked down though the familiar entrance in Del Florias...Ari wondering why no one ever found it odd that the little cleaners never closed. He supposed being located close to the United Nations with the constant influx of delegates would have need of such a service 24/7, and the general public would accept twenty-four hour a day service for that reason.

The two agents filed their joint report having investigated the possible existence of a new Thrush satrap in the city of Bonn but coming up empty-handed; the mission was a wash. The biggest excitement of their stay in Bonn was the assassination of the new German Chancellor.

Ari left Alexander Waverly's office as the boss wanted to speak to Elliott privately, thinking that this would perhaps be his final evaluation determining if he would be paired with her on a permanent basis. He hoped that would happen, as he thought they worked well together, and he also realized that there were not that many agents who wanted a woman for a partner in the field. Unfortunately there seemed to be few modern thinkers among the ranks of section two. In Israel the women worked right along side the men...it was a necessity of life there and a matter of survival for the small fledgling country.

"Well Miss Mc Gowan...the successful termination of Dieter Vogel will temporarily eliminate the involvement of Thrush in West German politics for the moment." said Waverly.

"Thrush are pretty stubborn birds...mighty thick headed sir, they may not get the message." she answered.

"Well we can be as well...stubborn that is." he gave Elliott a rare smile."And Mr. Ziv, how goes it with him?"

"We work well together, he's a smart one and I'm afraid was very quick to put two and two together when he heard my Archangel code name for the "angel of death" and the assassination of the Chancellor."

"Normally such a mission would have been executed alone Miss Mc Gowan, but given the convenience of your location and Vogel's election; it was an opportunity that could not be passed over. I trust that you were able to deflect Mr. Ziv's curiosity, as we can ill afford an Archangel's identity being compromised?"

"I was able ta put him off sir...I told him I was delivering long stem roses to your sister, whose married name is Azriel...a gift from you for her birthday. I had hidden my sniper rifle in the flower box with the flowers."

"Dear dear,"chuckled Waverly," my sister Mrs. Hemmingway would be most distressed with such a "nom de plume" to sign to her letters to me...imagine that, your loving sister "the angel of death?" Waverly took a long drag on his pipe.

Elliott joined him in his moment of amusement, then grabbed her temple again as it pained her when she started to laugh.

"Are you alright my dear?"

"Truthfully sir, I'm not feeling well as of late and have been gettin' terrible headaches...I'm thinkin' I need a few days off?"

"Well then Miss, get yourself up to medical immediately,"he said, ignoring her request," I believe you are overdue for a physical as it is. We can't have you becoming ill on us...now dismissed, off to medical with you."

Elliott sighed." right away sir." She then left his office doing as he had ordered, but first making a detour to the commissary for a good hot cup of tea thinking that would make her feel a bit better. She had to get used to making tea in a mug with a tea bag instead of steeping the tea in a pot, then pouring it into her cup with a bit of cream and sweetened with raspberry jam...a habit she'd remembered from childhood and picked up again after seeing Illya use jam in his tea as well.

She turned, heading toward a table when suddenly she slipped on something wet on the floor sending her and the mug of tea flying.

The other people there rushed to her assistance, helping her up from the floor. Elliott was embarrassed at her sudden clumsiness, then feeling a little pain as she put her weight on her right foot, she mumbled,"God...not a scratch on my missions for months and now I get hurt in the commissary at work!" She then hobbled down to medical keeping her word to Waverly, and now having another item to add to her list of complaints to the doctor.

Dr. Maxwell Schneider the head of the Medical Division of UNCLE usually conducted medical exams and treatments for all of the section two agents. These people were generally harder to handle than the average patient and not always willing to cooperate with doctor's orders...a particular Russian usually came to mind as his number one offender, and his partner was next in line.

Section two agents were notorious for their impatience at getting back into the field...and there was of course the security issues to contend with. Only special nurses, techs and orderlies were permitted to help him minister to these agents; though their UNCLE conditioning was potent, even some of the strongest agents could have problems of talking in their sleep while heavily medicated and sedated. Secrets had to be protected...

Dr. Schneider examined her ankle."Not to worry Elliott, it's just a mild sprain. I'll give you an analgesic for it...should be fine by tomorrow as long as you stay off it? But now I see we need to do a physical on you as well."

"Well to tell ye the truth," she added," I've been getting terrible headaches lately, I've just not been feeling well."

"Alright then," Max smiled at her," you've come to the right place!"

"What ever ye need to do Max," she said cooperatively, though she was still annoyed at herself for doing something as stupid as spraining her ankle.

"Elliott, you need to go a little easy on yourself, you're tired and Alex has been over-working you, along with a lot of other section twos right now.

She made a face at him."I'm not in the habit of having accidents...it's, well it's just annoying. Sorry,"

"Get over it." Max smiled.

Elliott sat on the exam table trying to be polite as she was poked and prodded; EKG and EEGs taken along with x-rays. Agents were notorious for working with broken bones and Schneider wanted to make sure she didn't have any fractures that might heal improperly without treatment.

"O.K. blood time," Max said,"left arm please?" He had Nurse Walsh draw several vials for testing."Dr. Petty will be here in a few minutes to do your pelvic exam," he added.

After her gynecological examination, Schneider sent her to rehab and Elliott sat in the whirlpool nursing her swollen ankle along with her wounded pride, when Schneider came into the room.

"Elliott," he said, turning off the whirlpool," we need to talk. Get dried off and see me in my office in ten minutes?' He tossed her a towel and Nurse Walsh helped her out of the tub.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No...I just need to speak to you about some test results."

"Alright then..."she answered, wondering what it could be.

Elliott limped into Dr. Schneider's office.

"Please sit down Elliott," he said offering her a chair.

"So what's with these tests ye mentioned?"

"Elliott, during the gynecological exam and tests...well we found something...are you aware that you are pregnant?"

"What?" she blurted out.

"You-are-pregnant."Max repeated,"Based on your reaction I think it's safe to assume that you didn't know. My calculations on the "rough" estimation of your last menstrual cycle, I would say you're just about two months along, give or take a week or so."

Elliott was at a loss for words...she and Illya had been very careful about that...after she had gotten pregnant by him accidentally, before they had gone on their mission to Ireland.

"I'm not really pleased with this," Max said," given the injuries you have suffered in the past year...but it's good to know at least that your reproductive system was unaffected.

"You know about what happened in Ireland...I thought that was off my records?" She went very pale.

"Elliott are you alright?"

"Yes." she said quietly.

"Dr. Singh and I still spoke but don't worry, that information is safe with me and is not on any of your records. Elliott, I would have thought you might have suspected the pregnancy...a missed period perhaps?"

"No Max, I had no idea...my cycles are somewhat irregular so when I miss a period it's normal for me. I was told that heavy exercise can disrupt a woman's cycle and ye know me... always working out."

"That's true Elliott, but in this case apparently not." he added,"Is the father available?"

"Available for what?" she suddenly snapped at the doctor.

"I only thought you'd want to let him know." he said. Then Schneider asked her outright. "Is the father an UNCLE agent?"

Elliott's thoughts were focusing on Illya at the moment...

"What?...None of yer business!" she said indignantly," Nor UNCLE's for that matter!"

"So," he smiled," I'm guessing by that statement that the father is an UNCLE agent then."

Elliott crossed her arms in a huff. "Not one word of this Max?" she asked," I don't want this in my medical records just yet... please not yet?" Elliott fought to keep herself calm and her temper in check."At least give me some time to let the father know?"

"Alright Elliott" smiled,"I'll do you that favor. But I will at one point have to report this to Waverly as your condition will eventually become quite obvious... unless you don't plan to keep it?"

"Max...I'm a Catholic, I could never have an abortion..."

"Well that settles it then... I'll keep it under wraps for as long as I can."

"Thanks Max...ye are the best." she smiled.

Elliott limped from medical, having been taken off active duty for a few days because of the sprain. Max ordered her home and to take it easy, staying off the ankle as much as possible, but he knew that was more than likely not to happen.

She was in shock at the news of her pregnancy but at the same time she felt happy...a baby with her Illuysha?She remembered he was quite upset and saddened when he found out about her miscarriage after they were being treated for their injuries received at the hands of the lunatic Terrence Finnerty in Ireland. She knew that Illya was not adverse to having a child some day... but just not now.

Elliott thought back wondering when it could have happened, as they had made a point of being careful, both agreeing a baby would complicate their lives as field agents and possibly jeopardize their careers with UNCLE.

She suddenly remembered the Christmas party at April Dancer's home. April seeing little signs and trusting a "girls intuition" she said, had guessed that something was going on between Elliott and Illya. She tried getting Napoleon to talk, but he closed up tighter than a clam. It was then that she cornered Elliott about it, as the woman was her friend; she finally admitted the truth to her. And April Dancer could not have been any happier that the solitary Russian had found love with Elliott, and Elliott with him.

The liquor was flowing into the night... Elliott and Illya were "feeling no pain" when they had disappeared into April's spare room and made mad, drunken love...and clearly forgot to use protection.

"Yes...that was definitely when it happened."Elliott thought, clicking her tongue.

"Oh boy..."she sighed.


	5. Chapter 5

A sudden gust of wind pounded them, distracting the officer for a split second; that was all Napoleon needed to grab his special from it's holster. He fired at the man, hitting him squarely in the chest sending his body backward, bouncing against the door to the staff car then to the snow covered road.

Solo spun instantly sending off a second shot, as Illya ducked his special in his hand, diving onto the snowy road bringing down the third soldier.

"See I told you to wait?" Napoleon grinned at his partner.

Illya frowned then grabbing one of the bodies; he dragged it away, dumping it unceremoniously into a ditch beside the road. Napoleon followed suit , then the both of them pulled the officer up by his hands and feet, swinging him with a heave into the ditch with the others.

"The snow should cover them soon enough. Let us hope that no one comes looking for them," Kuryakin said coldly.

He got into the truck, driving it up the road a short distance, ducking it into the woods. Then as Napoleon pulled up in the Volvo, Illya hopped into it letting his partner remain behind the wheel. The snow was beginning to fall more heavily, forcing Solo to lean forward closer to the steering wheel as he tried to see out the windshield.

Illya pulled a small compass from his pocket as Napoleon slowed. "Stay that way," Illya pointed, as the snow began to taper off, he looked at the map again. "There...take that road to the right."

Napoleon followed it, driving the car on the narrow road following it deep into the forest...it was slow going as the road was slippery; finally emerging nearly forty five minutes later at the start of an access road leading to the compound. He pulled off, hiding the car among the trees. The sun would be setting soon so they changed back into their black trousers and turtlenecks, waiting for the darkness to arrive while they converted their specials to rifles, lastly attaching the suppressors.

Illya withdrew two pairs of night vision goggles from their duffel bag then as soon as it was dark, they followed the road staying hidden along the tree line. It took them about a half hour by foot to finally reach the compound. The goggles changing everything to an eerie green color as they stayed hidden among the shadows.

"Industrial complex my ass," Napoleon mumbled, as it was nothing more than an old concrete military bunker from the war. Luckily there was no protective fencing or barbed wire and only two sentries posted outside he door.

They took careful aim with their specials, bringing the guards down with tranquilizer darts, then dragged the bodies out of sight; switching into men's green Thrush jump suits and berets.

Napoleon brought his attention to the steel door; pulling out his loc-pick, but then Illya suddenly reached out, turning the door handle and it opened.

"Never hurts to check," his partner whispered, raising his eyebrows.

They entered the bunker encountering another guard at a desk directly in front of the door.

"Was sind sie zwei tutsich hier_what are you two doing here?"he demanded in German.

"It's cold out there," Solo replied," just coming in to warm ourselves."

The guard suddenly realizing that he didn't recognize the pair... stood reaching for his side arm, but before he could draw it; Illya threw a punch sending the man back against the wall, knocking him out cold.

He ripped the wire from a lamp on the desk,quickly binding the man's hands and feet together, then shoved his beret into his mouth as he and Solo pushed him under the desk. Napoleon hit him with a tranquilizer round.

"Better to be on the safe side" he said to Illya with a wink.

There were two corridors, one to the right and the other to the left, so the two agents decided to split up in order to search more quickly as they might not have that much time before the guards were missed.

As Solo took the corridor to the left he glanced back, watching as his partner disappeared down the opposite corridor and around a corner.

Napoleon moved cautiously...there was a door with a small window to directly to his right; peeking through, he found nothing, the moved onto the next door. There he saw at fifteen to twenty men crammed into a small room scattered about, sitting on the floor; he recognized a few of the faces from Interpol, NIS and the agent from the C.I.A.

He tried the handle, finding the door locked; he pulled out his loc pic and opened it quickly and slipped inside.

Heads lifted as he spoke." Gentlemen, I'm Napoleon Solo from U.N.C.L.E. and I'm here to get you out."

Their smiles faded quickly as their attention was drawn from their rescuer.

"I think not, Mr. Solo" spoke a voice coming from behind him,"Drop your weapon and place your hands above your head please?"

Solo complied with a sigh, turning to face the man who's voice he remembered quite well.

"Owen Smythe...I hoped you were dead?"

"Hardly," Smythe grinned. His face was grotesquely disfigured, half of it skeletal-like, having been burned by the Molotov that Elliott Mc Gowan had thrown at him a few months short of a year ago in Belfast.

A guard now appeared behind Smythe holding a struggling Kuryakin by his arms that were cuffed behind his back.

"I was expecting you gentlemen...and now my collection is complete. You Mr. Solo, I am sure will fetch top dollar in my little auction. Mr. Kuryakin here, well ... I have special plans for him; my own personal project."

Smythe waved his hand for the guard to take Illya away, while another guard searched Napoleon; removing the rest of his UNCLE gadgetry.

"Angelique..." he muttered under his breath.

"Take Solo to holding cell three." Smythe ordered, "and soften him up a bit."

Solo was escorted to the end of the corridor with his hands cuffed behind his back, once there the guards beat him until he finally collapsed to cold floor. They left him there and Napoleon struggled to his feet, surveying the room... no window, and only a florescent light that hung flickering above his head. The only exit, a metal door. There was nothing to do but wait.

He huddled in the back corner, his arms wrapped around himself to keep warm as it was rather chilly. Napoleon had no idea as to the passage of time and the room was dead quiet; he heard only the sound of his own breathing.

He was angry that he had let Angelique fool him so easily, even though in the back of his mind a little voice reminded him that it could have been a trap...he didn't want to believe it. He vowed that if he got out of this mess; he would finish it with her...permanently. She had burned him for the last time...Angelique would have a bullet waiting for her this time.

Napoleon wondered what Smythe had in mind for Illya...some sort of revenge perhaps for what he and Elliott had done to him in Ireland?

Illya moaned just a little as he lay naked on the floor of his cell having been whipped by the guards with a heavy leather strap.

"Ah, Kuryakin," Owen boasted," you will be the instrument of my revenge against Alexander Waverly and Elliott Mc Gowan."

He saw Illya eyes flash at the mention of Elliott's name.

"You give yourself away Kuryakin...I think there is something there with Elliott eh? That will make my plan all the more sweeter... yes, you'll suffer for your the rest of your miserable life for what you will do for me.

"In your dreams Smythe."

"No, ...in yours. Have at him a little more," Smythe told the guards as he left.

They beat Illya until he passed out until hours later her woke, shivering as he lay on the cold, damp floor. Surveying the his cell, a light buzzing and flickering above his head...no window and nothing there that would be useful to help him to escape. There was a ragged blanket lying in the corner and he wrapped it around his bruised body, curling himself into a ball to keep warm.

Suddenly this seemed very familiar to him the cold grey concrete, the same flickering light, the thin blanket barely helping him as he shivered in his nakedness...all reminding him of his training back in the GRU. They as recruits had been sent to the gulag for a month...tortured and starved, teaching them to endure the unendurable. He nearly died there as he and the other trainees that survived were treated as prisoners being shown no mercy; teaching them a hard lesson in survival.

It was in the Solovki prison camp...the same place he later learned where his grandfather died that Illya suffered at the hands of his Komrades all for the sake of training. Located in the Solovetsky islands, it was once the site of the Orthodox Solovetsky Monastary converted by orders of Lenin to a re-education camp...it became known as the "mother of the gulag."Though the camp was supposedly closed in 1939, it served a secret purpose as a prison camp and training center for the GRU.

Illya began to shiver...was it from the cold, or his frigid, snow filled memories of Solovki? Just as there, he had no sense as to the passage of time in this cell. His stomach growled, but no food or water came to him, only more beatings from the guards.

Kuryakin could feel himself becoming weaker as the beatings and lack of sustenance were taking their toll on him...he tried to calm himself as the memories of the gulag began to fill his head, fighting back the fear and the pain.

He dozed...then was woken by the sound of metal scraping on the floor; a tray of food was in front of him. A bowl of watery broth and a chunk of dry black bread...he felt the broth for shards of glass, then considered the possibility of poison. He shrugged it off as he remembered that Smythe said he had plans for him, to what purpose then would poisoning him serve Owen? He ate the meager food, then suddenly he began to feel strange...perhaps there was something in the broth after all?

Illya began to hallucinate, as he saw winter-filled images... a prisoner limping half naked knee-deep in snow... no it was he who was limping dressed in a ragged striped prison uniform. He felt cold, numb and he shook violently...he saw Viktor Karkoff's face, and felt the pain of being beaten with a strap again.

"Good," said Smythe as he watched the Russian struggle, strapped into the chair, lost in his delusion. Images of Viktor Karkoff flashed on the wall in front of Illya, convincing him and filling him with fear... creating new memories that he was back in the gulag suffering at the hands of Karkoff, when in reality he had never been there with Viktor at all. Then Illya was shown images of Alexander Waverly.

The Russian heard the phrase repeated over and over again..."Waverly abandoned you to this fate." Illya fought it, trying to remind himself it wasn't true..."the gulag was before he knew the man.."

He saw more images flash before him. Elliott...his mind tried desperately to hold onto thoughts of her, happy thoughts.

"Elliott...Annushka!" he called out to her. Was she real...or someone he had just imagined, thinking he was still back in the gulag. He looked at the faces of the guards as they beat him again...one of them, a red-headed woman laughed at him as she slapped him across the face.

Inside the cell that was in Illya's mind there was only darkness now... a suddenly flash of strobe lights intruding into the black that surrounded him. Images...Karkoff...Waverly...Elliott. Snow, eyes watching him. It seemed to resonate through him...sights and sounds assaulted him, threatening his sanity.

He no longer had the energy to resist ...instead of being a spectator Illya became a participant in his delusion. He suddenly found himself outside in the snow with a pistol in his hand...Alexander Waverly stood before him.

"Kill him...pull the trigger." a voice whispered."It is he who is responsible for your suffering...it's her fault too, she betrayed you. They have both betrayed you and caused your suffering. It is their fault you nearly died." a voice whispered to him," they deserve death...you want to kill them...yessss."

The words echoed in his mind over and over, kill, kill, kill...

"I will kill you! he mumbled...kill kill kill "his hand trembled as he raised the gun pointing it at the figure of Alexander Waverly.

Illya squeezed the trigger repeatedly; the hammer clicking on the empty weapon. "Kill kill kill" the words replayed in his head again and again.

"Excellent," Smythe said happily, his teeth exposed in a half-lipped grin. He raised a syringe, injecting it into Kuryakin's arm...it was the last existing dose of the "mind control' drug. "He is almost ready to send back to UNCLE." Owen smiled to himself.

"You will listen to me Illya Kuryakin" he spoke to the Russian as he stood naked in the snow," and hear only my are to kill Alexander Waverly, but you can only do this in the presence of Elliott Mc Gowan and not before. Once Waverly is dead, you will murder Elliott with your own hands. Remember, you can only kill them when they are present together." Smythe repeated the instructions over and over, whispering them into the Russian's ear.

"Now tell me what you are to do Illya Kuryakin?"

"I will kill Alexander Waverly and Elliott Mc Gowan when they are together and not before."

"And lastly...you will never hurt me, or permit anyone to do me harm. Is this understood?"

Illya mumbled what sounded like a yes.

"Repeat what I said," Smythe ordered.

"I will never hurt you or permit anyone to do you harm." Illya droned.

"And when you have completed your task you will kill yourself...you must die for your crimes."

"Die for my crimes" Illya said mindlessly.

Owen Smythe reveled in the knowledge that Kuryakin would suffer enough before he finally killed himself, the conditioning would see to that. The knowledge that he murdered Waverly and Mc Gowan would eventually destroy him. But just in case Kuryakin was able to endure the guilt, Smythe had added the failsafe command...no harm could befall him at Kuryakin's hands. The Russian would never be able to seek revenge.

Owen smiled...the programming was now complete. His plan was perfect.

Illya suddenly woke finding himself strapped in a chair with electrodes hooked up to his chest; a doctor dressed in a white lab coat now listening to his heart with a stethoscope.

The first series of shocks weren't that bad,"Illya thought to himself, but then they increased in intensity when he began to sweat. As he bursts of pain continued he could see images of Waverly and Elliott flashing on the wall in front of him... Elliott laughing and pointing to Waverly.

It suddenly angered him...and his nose began to bleed.

The doctor nodded to an assistant who pressed a button on the controls, producing a surge of high impulse shocks, causing the Russian's muscles to contract involuntarily. They repeated it again and again until Illya began to convulse, then passed out.

"Enough," Smythe said."this will be his only memory of his stay here and nothing else...take him back to his cell," he ordered the guard.

Illya was disoriented and could no longer focus...he was nauseous, thirsty, cold, yet covered in sweat. Everything that touched his skin sent him into spasms of pain as the guards dragged him off.

Napoleon felt a little better as the beatings has ceased, though he was still bruised and sore. He was guessing that at least a week had passed, based on the number of times he had been fed.

At last Smythe returned to his cell.

"Well Mr. Solo, today is the day and we will begin the auction with you...the bidding should go quite high I suspect.

"Bring him," he snapped his finger to the guard who cuffed Napoleon's hands, dragging the UNCLE agent to a room at the far side of the complex. There was a single chair in the middle of it facing a curtained wall. Napoleon was pushed down into the chair and then the curtain opened silently, revealing a glass partitioned gallery filled with people seated inside it. Angelique was among them.

Napoleon stared at her coldly, locking eyes with hers for a brief moment, until she turned away.

"The bidding will now commence...reserve is $50,000." came Smythe's voice over a loudspeaker.

"$65,000 came the first bid...$70,000, $72,000,$80,000 then $85,000..."

"$100,000 bid Angelique." Then there was silence.

"Do I hear a counter offer?" Smythe asked.

"Going once...twice. Sold for $100,000 to the representative from T.H.R.U.S.H...well done!"

Napoleon stood up unexpectedly, kicking his solitary guard in the midsection with his knee, bringing him down, then as he hit the floor; he crushed the man's throat with his foot.

Solo took the keys to the cuffs from the man's belt setting himself free, then grabbing the man's pistol; he aimed it at the gallery as he shoved the chair against the doorknob, jamming the door closed.

The people in the gallery were now scattering in a panic as a klaxon alarm sounded, and Napoleon fired at the glass smashing it, then hurdled through the opening following the bidders towards the door. Angelique stood there as if waiting for him and Napoleon grabbed her by the throat shoving her back. "You set us up you bitch!" he growled.

"No Napoleon," she gasped, it was I who was set up...Smythe fed me the information to lure you here, I had not idea, I swear...I came to help to help you! I didn't do this to trick you!" she held up an UNCLE communicator, offering it to him.

Napoleon released her, grabbing it from her hand. "We'll settle this later...do you know where they are have Illya and the others.

"No I'm afraid I don't"

A guard suddenly charged in through the door and Napoleon shot him down instantly.

"Come with me" he said, taking her by the hand."

"No...Napoleon. I can't. No one must know that I am helping you."

"Suit yourself," he said, grabbing the dead guards rifle, heading out through the door with a weapon in each of his hands. Running right into three more guards; he took them out at a dead run, heading for the exit of the building as he knew it was of no use trying to search for his partner and the others.

Alarms continued to blare as Napoleon made it out of the building, scrambling to get to the edge of the woods, if he could make it there, then he'd have half a chance. There were limos and Mercedes taking off in every direction as the buyers fled, giving Napoleon some cover in the confusion. He heard shots ring out just as he made it into the into the forest, and kept on moving, running over fallen trees and dodging branches. He kept going until his lungs hurt, forcing him to stop to catch his breath.

Then he heard it...the sound of a helicopter circling above him...he stayed low among under the cover of the trees and bushes, then rose taking careful aim with the rifle as the chopper passed him; firing at it and hitting the fuel tank. It exploded into a ball of flame and the wreckage plummeted downward into the woods.

Solo made his way back to where they had hidden the Volvo, getting in; he pulled out the communicator.

"Open channel F-Lehrner.

"Lerhner here...Napoleon where are you? No one has heard from you in a week! I thought you were dead."

"Not quite Eric...look I need you to get to my position as quickly as possible...home in on my communicator. Bring weapons and as much plastic explosives as you can get hold of. We're going to need to blow this place open to free the prisoners, including Illya...the only good news right now is that the auction to say the least, has been cancelled."

"Owen Smythe was livid."What do you mean he got away?...You fool!" He slapped the face of the guard who had just given him the news."

His auction had been ruined.

"What about the prisoners sir...what are we going to do with them?"

"Kill them...kill them all," his hissed," Except Kuryakin...take him down the access road and set him free."

"Set him free sir?"

"YOU heard me...now DO IT!" he barked at the guard.

The guards followed Smythe's orders to the letter, executing the prisoners one by one. Then dragging the dazed Russian out of his cell past the bodies of the men they had murdered; they took him out into the woods near the road, abandoning him in the snow. He was clothed in only a pair of ragged prison pants and nothing more.

Illya, stunned and confused wandered down the road, with an empty revolver in his hand... his bare feet were nearly purple and numbed in the snow, when his partner appeared out of no where.

"Jesus Illya!" he heard Napoleon say as he collapsed into his arms.

Solo dragged Illya to the car, quickly dressing him in the clothes they had left there, the only thing missing was his boots. He turned the ignition key starting he car, putting the heater on full blast to warm the Russian.

"Illya, how did you get out...did Angelique help you?"

"Angelique?" he mumbled in response" no...I do not remember how...Napoleon, they are all dead. He killed them, Smythe killed them all."

Solo heard several helicopters fly over them, not circling this time; they were leaving.

Napoleon took a chance driving back to the bunker, leaving Illya in the car he verified for himself that all the kidnap victims had been executed. He stood shaking his head, his face red with anger at his failure and chastising himself over Angelique.

He returned back to the car with a pair of boots and a blanket for Illya, wrapping it around the figure of his friend. He pulled out the communicator.

"Open channel F- Lerhner.

"Lehrner here."

"Cancel the backup Eric...this mission was a complete and utter failure." Napoleon said with great regret in his voice."Go back to St. Hedwigs. We'll be there in a few hours."

"What happend?"

"They're dead Eric...all dead. Executed."

There was only silence...understood, Lehrner out"

Solo dreaded contacting Waverly but knew it had to be done. "Open channel D," he requested," overseas relay-Waverly."

"Mr. Solo, you are long overdue...what do you have to report?"

"Not good sir...it was apparently Owen Smythe behind this operation. Illya and I were captured, I managed to escape...breaking up the auction but..." Solo hesitated. "he killed them all, executed them in retribution for ruining his plans I think...I am sorry sir."

There was a moment of complete silence.

"That is most regrettable Mr. Solo. Is Mr. Kuryakin still with us?"

"Yes sir, he's in pretty bad shape, Smythe did a number on him...but he'll live."

"Very well Mr. Solo, please return as soon as Mr. Kuryakin is well enough to travel...we'll discuss this in detail when you arrive in New York. Waverly out."

Napoleon managed to find his way back into Berlin and the Kathedrale, the snow had ceased falling, making it easier for him to drive.

Illya barely spoke a word the entire trip and was still so weak that he had to be supported as they walked through the church and back to the sacristy.

Father Renner brought in hot soup, hand feeding it to the Russian himself. Then putting him to sleep on a cot in the office.

"So what did Kuryakin screw up to cause this?" Eric muttered.

"Shut your mouth Lehrner, or I'll do it for you!" Napoleon spoke under his breath at the German." You should only wish that you had half the integrity and courage that this man has. Now get out of my sight before I do something that I'll regret!" Napoleon was developing a real dislike for this weasel of a man...

The next day, Illya was able to move under his own power and Napoleon decided it was time to head back to West Berlin and get his partner right to medical.

Napoleon dressed himself in his bishops attire and helped Illya into his cassock. The Russian's face was swollen and quite bruised and it was decided if questioned at the check points; they would say that he, Father Kaminski had been stuck by a car while crossing the street...he was fine but a little beat up.

Solo tossed Lehrner the car keys, rubbing it in, "Here Eric, you drive...now you're the underling."

Lehrner scowled at him, saying nothing.

They passed through Checkpoint Charlie, heading back up the Freidrichstrasse and to the the Brandenburg Gate. Illya leaning his head against the passenger window focusing his attention on the Fernsehturm, a television tower still under construction near the Alexanderplatz...in the view of the Reichstag. When completed; it would be the tallest structure in all of Germany.

It's tiled and stainless dome now reflected a clear cross in the sunlight, much to the embarrassment of it's non-sectarian builders. "Rache des Papstes" Berliners called it..."the Pope's Revenge".

lllya smiled just a little bit as the brilliant silver-white cross shining on the dome reminded him of his Elliott since she often wore a small silver cross around her neck. He closed his eyes again thinking of her as he drifted back to sleep.

The Mercedes was stopped at the gate and searched quickly as the guards asked what had happened to the priest. Napoleon spoke only in Italian, letting Eric translate for him as he relayed the cover story of the car accident; satisfied, they let them pass back into West Berlin.

Illya spent a few days recuperating in Medical, having been treated for superficial burns, lacerations and dehydration. His strength had returned and he was becoming impatient as always to be discharged.

Eric Lerhner walked into his room. "Finally awake I see...so you and your partner really screwed up on this one didn't you?"

"Go away Eric." Illya mumbled, not wanting to deal with his irritating comments.

"What? You can't take the truth?"

"Verdammt dich_fuck you!"Illya cursed at him in German.

"I don't think so...it's you'll who'll probably be fucked when you go back to New York." Eric laughed, turning to leave.

He was suddenly stuck in the back of the head with a plastic dining tray.

Eric turned ready to charge the Russian."You son of a…"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Eric." smiled Napoleon, stepping into the room.

Lerhner backed off. "I won't forget this Kuryakin!" He then stormed off.

"You could of at least waited until you were released before you belted him? Get dressed, we're going home!"


	6. Chapter 6

Illya stopped to use a pay phone when they arrived at the airport. They had about an hour wait and he decided to try calling Elliott to let her know he was alright and heading back to New York.

It would be about one in the morning and there and even though she was probably asleep, she would want to hear from him. They never dared to use their communicators for personal conversation...one never knew who might be listening in. UNCLE generally did not monitor conversations. Though there were records kept of all incoming and outgoing transmissons; some of the communications specialists sometimes listened in out of boredom.

The telephone rang, calling Elliott out of a deep sleep as she reached for the receiver of the the pastel yellow princess phone on the night stand; answering it groggily.

"Hallo?"

"Yes, ma'am, this is the overseas operator. I have an long distance collect call from a Mr. Kuryakin. Will you accept the charges?"

"Huh...yes, yes I will." she yawed.

"Go ahead Mr. Kuryakin."

"Ya razvudil tebya moya Annushka, lubov' moy_did I wake you Annushka my love?"

"Mmm Illuysha...Vy mozhete rozbudit' menya lyuboe remya_you can arouse me any time." she teased, still half asleep.

"Your voice sounds very sexy when you first wake up,"Illya whispered."have I ever told you that?"

She laughed..."randy even on long distance ye are! Where are ye..can ye tell me?" she asked finally waking up.

"At the airport in Germany, our flight leaves in less than an hour."

"How did it go?"

"Not good..."

Elliott's eyes opened wide." Are you alright?"

"A bit roughed up, but I'm fine, as is Napoleon."

"Our flight should arrive at Kennedy around eight in the morning...will you be at headquarters?" he asked.

"No darlin'...I'm on medical leave for a few days. Would ye believe I slipped in the commissary and sprained my ankle?"

"Really?" he chuckled

"Not funny! It was very embarrassing."

"Well not funny that you are injured, just that all your recent missions were injury free and you hurt yourself in headquarters... a little ironic do you not think so?"

"Sure I thought the same thing." she laughed

"Then I will see you at home after debrief...I believe Dr. Schneider will probably pull me out of the field for a few days myself "he said." I cannot wait to make love to you Annushka"...he suddenly quoted Shakespeare to her.

"If the dull substance of my flesh were thought. Injurious distance would not stop my way. For then, despite of space, I would be brought from limits far remote thou dost stay..."

"My God...a love sonnet at one in the morning...ye have become quite the romantic Mr. Kuryakin." she smiled," I'll have a nice supper ready for ye when ye come home just for that!"

"Sounds wonderful...goodnight my love. I will be with you soon." he whispered

"Slán abhaile mo ghrá_safe home my love." she said in Irish," then hung up the phone sighing, wondering how and when the hell she would break the news to him.

She lay there in bed, suddenly practicing the words..Illya we're going to be parents...no, I'm going to have a baby... um, I'm pregnant,"she tried saying it in different languages..." Ya beremenna. Je suis enceinte...Tá mé ag iompar clainne. Oh God..."she moaned flopping back on the bed, covering her head with the pillow.

Illya hung up the phone, suddenly feeling odd; he wiped his lip with his hand finding there was blood on it. Grabbing his handkerchief; he wiped it quickly, realizing he had a bloody nose as well as the onset of a sudden headache.

"It would be good to have a few days off." he sighed to himself.

The next morning Elliott was up early, tidying the apartment, still limping a little. She decided to make something special for Illuysha's homecoming. The mission hadn't gone well from the sounds of it and he would either be beating himself up about it, or feeling a little down, depending on how bad it had been. She knew that a good meal always cheered the Russian up.

She would make lamb fillets with red currant sauce and serve it with new potatoes and courgettes...easy to make as she had all the ingredients but the meat and a quick phone call to the butcher would solve that. She'd bake some Irish brown bread for him, as he had become very fond of it lately...even though it really didn't go with the meal...he'd devour it anyway! Once he had a nice supper, she decided she would break the news to him about the baby. And the dessert, would hopefully be them in bed afterwards...she smiled.

Napoleon and Illya's flight arrived just a little before eight in the morning and catching a taxi; they headed directly to headquarters.

They walked in through the agents entrance in Del Florias being met by Wanda at the receptions desk.

"Hi Napoleon," she smiled pinning his ID to his suit jacket,"missed you."

"Missed you too gorgeous!" he smiled back at her.

She absentmindedly handed Illya his badge, when she glanced at him..."God Illya, you look terrible?"

"Why thank you for actually noticing," he commented dryly.

Napoleon smiled at him, shrugging as they proceeded down the already busy corridor heading towards the elevator, taking it up to the conference room for their initial debrief. Both agents stopped for a moment, straightening their ties before entered. Waverly looked up from his files, greeting them.

"Welcome back gentlemen...please be seated. I have just finished a series of exhaustive telephone calls, extending condolences and apologies for the deaths of the operatives and officers from thirty six different countries and I am not in a good mood...you have been forewarned."

"Now Mr. Solo, would you care to enlighten me as to what you did and what went wrong with this mission?

Forty five minutes later Alexander Waverly finished reaming into his two best agents for having failed so miserably. He was not happy that the third agent had been excluded from the operation, feeling that his presence might have helped avert the catastrophe in some part.

Illya suddenly had gone very pale while listening to Waverly and was rubbing his temple, when his nose began to bleed. Granting a temporary cessation to Waverly's tirade.

"Mr. Kuryakin are you alright?"

"I am fine sir...just some after affects of a little torture session. Nothing serious. I was checked out by medical in Berlin."

"Well get yourself up to medical regardless, I would prefer to have Dr. Schneider look the both of you over...standard procedure of course. I will expect your written reports by tomorrow...now dismissed." Waverly said sharply.

Both of them felt about two feet tall after they had been cut down to size by Waverly's angry diatribe.

"That went well," Illya said being facetious.

"Yeah, if you call getting ripped a new ass..."

"Please Napoleon, spare me your colorful imagery. I have a terrible headache and I think for once I am going to go check in with Dr. Schneider willingly...so if you do not mind, I will see you tomorrow perhaps?"

"Tell your friend I said hello when you get home." he smiled.

"I will... she said she is preparing a very nice dinner for the two of us" he smiled.

Napoleon clapped his partner on the back..."Enjoy you lucky dog..." He turned, feeling a little forlorn...maybe he'd go see Dolores. He had to have a little chat with her about Fräuline Heidi Schmidt anyway.

Two hours later Illya Kuryakin walked out the medical section feeling a little better. Max Schneider could find no discernible reasons for the headaches and nosebleeds, and put it off to the stress of the mission and the torture session, feeling the electric jolts Illya experienced had caused a weakening of some of the capillaries in the delicate nasal cavity.

Max checked the burns and lacerations and found no sign of infection and ended up giving Illya an analgesic for the headaches and as Illya had suspected, pulled him off the active duty roster for a few days.

Elliott expected him around seven and he left a little early having typed and filed his report in order to pick up wine for dinner. As he entered the apartment carrying a bottle of Cabernet and Bordeaux, one in each hand, his senses were instantly assaulted by a wonderful aroma coming from the kitchen. He smiled as he stopped for a second, trying to identify them...lamb and he detected the scent of freshly baked brown bread.

"Illuysha!" Elliott called, trotting from the kitchen into his outstretched arms. They embraced holding each other for a long time.

She took the bottles of wine from his hands,"My God! Look at yer face." she moaned, seeing the bruises that were now turning a lovely combination of purple and yellow.

"They are nothing...I told you I am fine." he smiled, giving her a little squeeze." I am starving. It is lamb that I smell, correct?"

"Can't fool ye! Sit darlin'...I'll bring the supper right out." she laughed.

They sat quietly enjoying their meal together, Illya eating slowly for once, savoring the wonderful flavor of every mouthful of the lamb, potatoes and zucchini.

"This is delicious Annushka...you have outdone yourself. You keep feeding me like this and I think I could actually gain some weight." he laughed, refilling her wine glass. He would only have the one glass himself as he had an allergy to the sulphites in wine and too much tended to make him feel not drunk, but ill.

"A few pounds wouldn't hurt ye,"she agreed "Illya, ye seem ta be in good spirits in spite of the assignment having not gone well?"

"Believe me when I say...it is still bothering me very much." he hesitated to tell her, as it was not their habit to discuss their missions. "Elliott, it was Owen Smythe...it was he who was behind the kidnappings and planned to auction them off to the highest bidders. He killed them vindictively for having his plans foiled...all of them. Thirty six men murdered in cold blood."

"We had been set up and Smythe caught us... Napoleon escaped sending the buyers off in a panic. I am not sure how I survived the executions; I cannot remember getting away? I was lucky that Napoleon found me, as I could have frozen to death in the snow."

"Smythe!" Elliott snarled."And he got away again? I can't believe it! That feckin' bastard! Someday I swear I'll..." her anger got the better of her.

"Elliott! Stop it!" Illya suddenly grabbed his temple."You have got to stop obsessing over this man! Will you listen to yourself?" he snapped at her.

"What is wrong with me wanting that animal dead!" she raised her voice at him, her hormones taking control of her temper."Why do you have to keep berating me for it!"

"Enough!" Illya barked at her, getting up from his chair and throwing his napkin on the table." I do not wish to speak of this any longer! I am going to bed...I have a headache." He turned and strode off to the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

"Oh Christ?" Elliott mumbled to herself," nice goin'...peck a fight with the man Elliott? She had ruined the moment she had hoped to tell him of the pregnancy. " Ye oinseach!" she chastised, calling herself an idiot in Irish.

Illya changed to his sweatpants and t-shirt then throwing back the covers still annoyed; he dropped himself onto the bed. He shouldn't have gotten angry with Elliott, but his head hurt so badly; it made him lose his patience with her. He closed his eyes going to sleep quickly, hoping that would drive away the pain in his head.

Elliott took her time cleaning up the the dishes...upset, as they had never really argued before. She found it quite unsettling and realized she would have to wait for the right time now to break the news to him.

She opened the bedroom door carefully. The light on the night stand was still on as she saw him asleep on his side facing the wall, with his back to her side of the bed; telling her instantly that he was probably still annoyed.

She had slept with the man long enough to know his moods, and generally when he lay with his back to her; he had something on his mind. If a mission had gone bad he tended to sleep this way, isolating himself from her while he replayed the details of the assignment over and over, analyzing them; trying to figure out what he did wrong. Generally punishing himself for failing, as Illya Kuryakin did not take well to failure.

Perhaps it was the mission and not their quarrel that made him sleep this way tonight?

Elliott changed into her favorite pale yellow negligee, and slipped into the bed next to Illya, reaching across, turning out the lamp, laying to her side with her back to him and went to sleep.

It was in the early hours that Illya woke, rolling over he reached for Elliott, putting his arm around her waist, pulling her towards him. She was awake instantly, feeling his arousal she turned to him, her lips meeting his. He ran his hands over the softness of her silk negligee, sliding it off her and she reached helping to remove his clothing. She kissed his chest then bit him playfully on the neck.

He moved on top of Elliott, slipping inside her, making love to her, his movements strong and steady. She could feel he was perspiring as droplets of sweat fell on her breasts.

Illya suddenly stopped himself, feeling it as it ran down over his lips, pulling out; he moved, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"What's wrong Illuysha?"

He turned away from her switching on the lamp, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand drawer.

"Illya?" she asked, then noticed several drops of blood on her chest...thinking it has been his perspiration.

"Agggh!" he groaned. I have a bloody nose." He handed Elliott a tissue to wipe the blood from her skin as he lowered his head trying to stop the blood flow.

She reached out trying to help him.

"Stop..." he said sharply, then regretted his tone."I am sorry Elliott...a minor after affect of Berlin." he said, a little embarrassed.

She reached across to him draping her arm across his shoulders. He extended his hand to hers clasping it for a moment.

"I will be alright, he whispered...I have been getting headaches and a few nose bleeds. Schneider said it was just from stress and should abate."

Then when the nose bleed finally subsided, he closed the light and they laid back down together. This time falling asleep in each others arms.

Illya awoke the next morning finding Elliott gone from the bed; he slipped on his sweatpants and walked out, hearing her moving about in the kitchen.

She stood leaning against the counter sipping from a large mug that she held between her two hands.

"Good morning." he said padding up to her in his bare feet, seeing that she wore only a short silk robe that clung to her skin seductively.

"So yer finally awake sleepy head." she smiled.

He reached out taking the mug from her hands and took a sip of tea from it, then handed it back to her.

"I know I don't have to ask if ye are hungry...but I have bad news for ye; the pantry is bare. I've nothing much for breakfast."

"Then we will go around the corner to "Jola's" and have a Polish breakfast?" he suggested.

"Are ye feeling better this morning?"

"Most assuredly," he smiled, taking the mug from her hands and placing it on the counter; he scooped Elliott up easily into his arms and carried her back to the bedroom. Laying her down on the bed, he knelt on the floor beside her, kissing her throat as he undid the belt to her robe, slowly gliding his hand down, massaging her...pleasuring her with his fingers. He kissed her breasts, teasing her nipples with his tongue. Elliott moaned as he continued. She tried reaching for him, but he pushed her hands away. Her breath quickened then she groaned, this time arching her back as she came with an exquisite orgasm.

Without saying a word, he kissed her on the cheek then rose, walking to the bathroom. Elliott saw him rubbing his temple again as he disappeared, another headache, she surmised. Then heard him as he turned on the water in the shower, adjusting the faucets...he loved his hot showers and they were one of his few indulgences.

Suddenly there was a loud crash coming from the bathroom. Elliott ran in finding Illya lying on the hard tile floor with the shower curtain pulled down around him and there was blood on his face.

"Oh God Illya!" she cried out. She rushed to his side...he was unconscious. Her first instinct was to call Medical and she ran back to the bedroom grabbing her communicator.

"Open channel D- medical emergency- Mc Gowan.

"Yes Miss Mc Gowan, what is the nature of the emergency?"

"Agent down...possible head injury. Send a med team to my apartment immediately!"

" Ambulance is on the way. Out."

"Channel D- Solo please."

"Elliott?"

"Yes Napoleon...It's Illya. He's collapsed in the shower...I don't know, he may have a head injury. Medical is on the way."

"Your place?"

"umm...yes."

"I'm on my way Elliott. I'm right around the corner. Solo out"

She checked on Illya again, then quickly dressed herself in a sweatsuit, then grabbed a towel, covering him.

"There's no for it now," she thought as she paced waiting for what seemed like an eternity for the med team and Napoleon to arrive.

She knew that word would get out about Kuryakin being found unconscious and nude in her bathroom...but that was the least of her worries at the moment.

The door bell rang and letting Napoleon in as she saw through the peephole that it was him,"he's still on the floor in the bathroom," she said.

Solo went straight to his partner, just as he was beginning to come to with a moan. Seeing the blood on his face, he carefully lifted his friends head examining him for injuries, but found none. He helped Illya to his feet and then to the bed as he was shaken, but seemed alright.

"What happened?"

"Not sure,"Illya answered, "I had just gotten into the shower when I had another nose bleed...then I became light-headed. I must have slipped and fallen?" He was becoming rather annoyed now at being fussed over.

"Ye had another headache before ye went into the shower, didn't ye?" Elliott asked, eyeing him.

The door bell rang again."That will be medical." she said.

"You called Medical?" the Russian yelled after her as she went to let them in.

"Go away." he snarled as they entered the bedroom."I do not need your help!"

The technician ignored him...knowing the man's reputation for hating anything medical. He noticed the Russian was only wrapped in a bath towel, and his usual black turtleneck and suit were draped over a chair across the room...

"Knock it off Kuryakin" the tech said with authority," you're going to lay back, be quiet and let me take your vitals."

Illya looked up at Napoleon, Elliott and the techs, realizing he was out numbered; he offered up his arm for his blood pressure to be taken.

A few minutes later the technician pronounced that Illya's vitals seem fine...his blood pressure was a little low, but that was to be expected when someone passed out.

"Where did this happen...did you have any unusual symptoms before it happened ?" asked the tech.

"I passed out in the shower...headache and nosebleed." Illya was quite short with him, being peeved at all the attention. He refused to be transported to headquarters, insisting that he was alright.

"Have it your way Mr. Kuryakin...but I will be reporting this to Dr. Schneider and Mr. Waverly will be informed as well. So don't be surprised if you're ordered to medical for a workup."

The medical team packed themselves up and left, Elliott seeing them out; Napoleon stayed with Illya as he dressed himself in a pair of jeans and a grey polo shirt.

"He's right Illya." Napoleon said," You haven't quite been yourself since we got back to West Berlin...the headaches, nosebleeds. Something is going on."

"Napoleon...Schneider said that it is nothing but stress...Smythe did a number on me that is all..." Illya grabbed his temple again as there was another sharp pain.

Napoleon thought there might be something more to it but knew better that to suggest a psychiatric exam. Of anyone in the medical profession, it was psychiatrists that his partner hated the most. He'd been subjected to constant testing and observation..prodded, poked and hounded by them back in the Soviet Union...that much Illya had told him. Looking for meaning in an innocent word or phrase; testing and retesting his stability...and loyalty. It was no wonder Illya abhorred them. Napoleon wasn't too fond of them himself.

"Alright tovarisch," Napoleon resigned himself to his partner's stubbornness." But if you need help, you call me? Obeshchanie_promise?"

"Da, Napolyeona. Ya obeshchayu." the Russian agreed," now please go? I would like to spend a little time with my woman if you do not mind?" he smiled a little.

Illya waited until Solo left before walking out to the living room, where Elliott sat waiting on the sofa.

"I wish you had not done that? he said.

"And what was I supposed to do with ye passed out cold on the floor with blood all over yer face?"

"Sorry... I suppose you were right to have done what you did. You do realize now that all of UNCLE will know that I was naked on your bathroom floor at seven am on a Sunday morning...I think people will quite easily adding two and two together."

"That's "putting" two and two together," she corrected.

"What ever...that is immaterial. I am not happy about my personal life," he corrected himself." our personal lives be the subject of the gossip mongers at headquarters."

"Oh Illuysha, do ye think I give a rat's arse about gossip anymore. You shouldn't either. Wasn't it you who taught me not to worry what others said about me? You shouldn't either."

"That may be easier for you to say...but Annushka, I am a very private person. I think you should know that by now?"

"I'm sorry my love, please forgive me?" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"What is done...is done," Illya said," there is no point dwelling in it, ma petite chérie. Now, I am still hungry...Jola's?"

"Are ye sure ye feel up to it?"

"I repeat, I am fine. If it will make you happier I will return to see Dr. Schneider tomorrow, yes?"

"Alright then," she agreed, still worried about him.

They took a taxi to the little family owned restaurant several blocks away as it was still winter and quite cold...though not as cold as it had been in Germany.

As Illya and Elliott entered the restaurant, they were greeted by a rotund woman who towered over both of them.

"Ah! My little blond one has finally returned!" the woman said in Polish.

"It has been too long...look at you, nadal za chuda_ still too skinny!" she clicked her tongue.

Illya greeted her in Polish as the woman guided them to a back table; obviously remembering Illya's seating preferences...always in the back near the kitchen door, out of the open with his back seated to the wall.

Elliott smiled saying hello to her.

"Ah...and this lovely little one!"she said pinching Elliott on the chin." finally found yourself a wife have you?"

"Nie...nie," Illya blushed still speaking in Polish," we are not married."

"Elliott waited for the standard man's line"we're just friends," but he never said it; giving her a warm sense of satisfaction.

Later in the afternoon, Illya decided to go back to his own apartment with the excuse of needing more clothes; feeling that it was wise he spend the night alone so as not to worry Elliott.

His headaches continued while at breakfast; he had to disappear to the restroom several times to see to his nose bleeds. It was getting to the point that he could feel them coming on and they seemed to be getting worse instead of better. He would do as he had said and go to see Dr. Schneider again.

Later in the afternoon, Illya decided to go back to his own apartment with the excuse of having a few tthing

The next morning Illya arrived at headquarters early on Monday morning intending to go straight to the Medical wing. He picked up his ID badge at the desk, heading down the corridor, finding himself the object of stares, whispers, giggles and half-hidden smiles from nearly every female that he passed.

George Dennell walked up behind him, slapping him on the back "Way to go Illya!" George smiled at him, then whispering."I just heard you tamed the "Banshee?"

Illya clenched his hands, restraining himself. He walked away from George stiff-armed, not saying a word; ducking into his office to escape the unwanted attention.

Lisa Rogers voice came over the intercom."Mr. Kuryakin, you're wanted in Mr. Waverly's office asap."

He hit the switch, responding. "On my way."

He headed directly up to Waverly's conference room looking straight ahead, trying to pretend that he had blinders on to avoid people as he walked through the hall.

He went directly into Waverly's office remaining standing until he was acknowledged. After several minutes had passed, he finally cleared his throat.

"I know you are here Mr. Kuryakin...sit down then man."

He knew by the tone of the "Old Man's" voice that he was in some sort of trouble...a lecture from Waverly two days in a row was not a good thing."

"It has come to my attention that a medical team was called to assist you while at Miss Mc Gowan's residence early Sunday morning...finding you in a particular state of undress..."

"Yes sir."

"Mr. Kuryakin, "Waverly clicked his tongue," I would have thought such a thing of Mr. Solo...but you young man? Waverly then smiled, " But we are, after all only human. Make sure you keep this relationship under wraps and under control please, I'll not have it interfering with work, mind you? Is this clear?"

"Yes sir, crystal clear." Illya sighed, massaging his temple with his fingers.

"Now as to reason as to why the medical team was summoned...I under stand that your headaches and nose bleeds are getting worse?"

"Yes sir. I was on my way to see Dr. Schneider when I was told you wished to see me." Suddenly Illya sensed his nose was bleeding and he grabbed his handkerchief, covering it.

"That's it young man...you get yourself up to medical now! I want Max Schneider to check you over thoroughly...and if need be, Dr. Dennison will give you a psyche evaluation. I want what ever is wrong with you taken care of immediately. Now dismissed! "

Then Waverly added,"If I hear that you have not gone straight to Medical then I will have you taken there by force if necessary!"

Illya rose from the chair then suddenly going very pale, he took hold of the table feeling light-headed.

"Are you alright Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Just a little dizzy sir, I am fine. It will pass."

"Nonsense. You are not fine!"

Waverly flicked a switch on his console. "I need a gurney brought down to my office immediately to take Mr. Kuryakin to Medical?"

Illya was mortified as he was wheeled from Waverly's office to the medical wing...adding fuel to the fires that powered the rumour mills that were already running now at high speed.

Elliott arrived at headquarter just before nine...Ginger the receptionist smiled making a remark about Elliott "getting lucky" with a certain Russian.

She was less restrained than Illya had been and went completely against her own advise. She leaned in over the desk toward Ginger taking hold of her, digging her thumb into the back of the woman's hand as she held it.

"If I hear any more such comments from ye or anyone else...there will be hell to pay. My business is me own...am I understood?"

Ginger pulled her hand away, rubbing it and nodding to Elliott.

"OK OK! I got it!" she said,"...geesh?"

"And ye can spread the word to the rest of ye's...ta mind their own now!"

"Mr. Kuryakin has been taken up to Medical...you don't mind me telling you that do you?" Ginger asked cautiously.

"No, thank you Ginger...and sorry about the hand." Elliott headed quickly through the door and directly up to Medical.


	7. Chapter 7

Illya had just been wheeled out of x-ray and back to his room when Elliott arrived, spotting Dr. Schneider at the nurse's station.

"How is he?" she asked anxiously.

He hesitated suddenly smiling, the concern in her voice gave him the answer as to the question of fatherhood he had put to Elliott only a few day ago.

"So far all his tests are coming back completely normal...blood and brain chemistry...every thing is fine. I can find no sign of tumors, neither cranial or intra-nasal. Epistoxis...nosebleeds can be either local, caused by something such as blunt force trauma, or systemic... for example, being brought on by allergies or infectious diseases like the common cold, both of which Illya is frequently susceptible to...but I am sure are non-related in this instance."

I'm frankly still at a loss as to the cause of all this...sometimes nosebleeds and related headaches can just occur with no obvious reason? Now I understand he passed out Sunday morning...has he done this before, assuming that you two have been together for a..." Max paused smiling meekly, apologizing, " the gossip was flying this morning, what can I say?"

"Can't believe everything ye hear Max..." Elliott bluffed. And to answer yer question...it's never happened since I've worked with him and that's nearly a year now. All I know is that he complained of a terrible headache, then he had the nosebleed in the middle of the night..."she suddenly stopped, realizing she had slipped, giving herself away." Then... he passed out in the shower the next morning." she finished the sentence.

"The dizziness is probably due to the continued loss of blood from his frequent nosebleeds." Schneider sighed, removing his glasses and polishing them. "Elliott, did you tell him you were pregnant?"

"No... not yet. I was waiting for the right time but given what's been happening to him, it hasn't exactly been conducive ta make such an important announcement such as that. I really wanted ta give him the news under more pleasant circumstances...do ye understand?"

Max could this all be from stress as you first thought?"

"I don't know Elliott...it's possible, it may not be physiological? He may need psychiatric testing? Physically he seems as healthy as a horse...considering all the years of physical abuse that he has been through. He is a very strong man, with very amazing recuperative abilities."

"That's because he's a stubborn-arsed Russian," she smiled, "Do ye really think it might have to come down to a psyche evaluation? He won't take kindly that?"

"Yeeaah...you've got that right," said the doctor." but I can't rule it out."

"What are ye going ta do then?"

I'm going to hold off for now and release him right now I think the stress of a psyche exam might do him more harm than good. He does get rather tense in the presence of psychiatrists. I'll need to work something out with Dr. Dennison and prepare him before we consider doing a work, as he's never dealt with Illya before."

"Ye make it sound like Dr. Dennison might need body armor?"

"That believe it or not, that is not far off the mark." Schneider said." I think Illya definitely contributed to our last psychiatrist quitting...you section twos can be a tough crowd to handle."

"Gee, thanks Max." Elliott smiled, leaving him to go into Illya's room, putting on a brave face.

"So are ye being nice to everyone?" she smiled.

"I will be once they let me out of here." he mumbled. Illya sat looking very much like a stiff-lipped angry child with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Well here's some good news that will improve yer mood, Max is springing ye from jail." She looked at her watch not having paid attention to her time as she spoke with Max. "Tch, sorry I have ta go love...I have a meeting. Well the truth is out anyway so here goes." Elliott leaned forward and kissed him right on the lips, just as a nurse walked into the room.

"Waverly knows about us."he whispered, massaging his temples with his fingertips.

"Did he say something to you?

" Yes, but apparently is not problem...I did get the "keeping it professional at work lecture, non-interference with assignments and so forth. So there is no turning back now," he smiled weakly. "I will see you tonight?"

Illya never appeared that evening, nor did Elliott hear from him.

The next day, she was told that he had been in headquarters but was unable to find him. She sought out Napoleon, locating him in Communications.

"Can I see you a minute Mr. Solo?" she said, calling his attention away from Dolores.

'Sure, how can I be of assistance?" he smiled.

"Yer office? It's regarding your last mission?" she spoke vaguely, trying to avoid the scrutiny of Dolores.

Napoleon and Elliott headed up to the next floor to his office, then once inside she finally spoke to him.

"There is something very wrong with Illya...he said he would see me last night but never came, never heard from him...now I can't find him. It's almost as if he's avoiding me?"

"I haven't seen much of him the past few days myself, "admitted Napoleon," Is he still having problems?"

"Yes and they seem ta be gettin' worse instead of better. Medical can't find a physical reason for it either and now Schneider mentioned a psyche evaluation."

"That's not good," he said, reaching for the intercom. "Janet, is Mr. Kuryakin in the building?"

"Just a second,"said the secretary." No Napoleon he left about an hour ago...said he was going home."

"thank you Janet." Napoleon switched off the intercom," Well there you go...good hunting. Let me know if you have a problem with him?"

Napoleon leaned over giving her a peck on the cheek."We'll get though this...he's one tough guy and you're one tough lady and I've got your backs."

Elliott went home to her apartment, finding her Russian laying on the bed with an open bottle of Vodka and a glass in his hands. It was obvious that he'd been drinking quite a bit.

"Please Elliott do not say anything." he said as he placed the Stoli and the glass on the night stand.

He looked flushed, not sure if it was from the drink; she reached out, running her hand across his forehead checking his temperature.

"STOP!" he snapped at her, shoving her hand away.

"Headaches worse?"

"Yes"

"And ye think drinking is going to help?

"It was helping before you got here." he mumbled.

She ignored the remark." I was worried about ye when ye didn't come home last night."

"Well I am here now...K sozhleniyu, eto bylo luchshe, ya byl odin_sorry, it was better I was alone..." he apologized.

She knelt on the bed next to him.

"Illya, now please don't stop me?" She began to gently massage his temples, just as he had done for her once before and she could feel his tension slowly begin to melt.

"Luchshe_better?"

"Da...spacibo Annushka."

She continued until he seemed relaxed, then leaned over kissing his forehead, his eyelids, then finally his lips. She began to unbutton his shirt as he remained motionless, watching her as she began to kiss his scarred chest, moaning slightly as she caressing his nipples with her mouth.

They made love, but Elliott sensed that something was still very wrong. He was more reserved in his lovemaking and lacked his usual passion, not because he was feeling ill and was a little drunk...it was almost as if he was afraid of something.

She was unsure of what to do now as her concerns for his health grew deeper. They lay there together in the dim light and Elliott realized she could still not tell him about the baby...not yet.

She woke a short while later, seeing Illya getting dressed in the darkness.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing...go back to sleep."

"Illya?"

He sighed." I am going back to my apartment, I really am not feeling well...I will see you in the morning at the briefing with Waverly.

"Illuysha, stay? I can..."

He placed his index finger on her lips. "Nyet. Ne bespokoytes' moy angel_ No. Do not worry my angel, everything will be fine... Elliott, YA lyublyu tebya._I love you. Vernut'sya v son, pozhaluista_go back to sleep, please?

"Love you too," she whispered as he bent kissing her on the cheek, hiding his pain from her as there was another sharp stab in his head. He turned quickly, keeping her from seeing the handkerchief as he placed it to his face.

The next morning Illya sat in his office feeling very exhausted while doing some paperwork as Napoleon walked in to join him.

"Well nice to see you tovarisch...you've been the invisible man lately? Everything alright with you?" he asked, not letting on that he had spoken to Elliott.

"I am fine...everything is fine." Illya answered impatiently.

"Yeah right..."Napoleon mumbled.

Kuryakin gave him a quick glance but said nothing.

"Look, I know you went MIA on Elliott the other night...she's pretty worried about you. I am too you know? Schneider says he can't find the reason for your medical issues."

"Does the entire world know my business now...what ever happened to doctor patient privilege? It is bad enough Elliott and I are now fodder for the gossip mongers... not that it is any of your business, but I spent most of last night with her, alright.?"

"Most of last night?"

"I feel no need to discuss my sex life with you...I went back to my apartment. I was not feeling well."

"You know, you two don't really have to sneak around anymore? You just said you know your secret is out?"

"Trust me..I am very well aware of that. It was all I could do to keep from punching George Dennell."

"George? You wouldn't have...would you? Illya, he's a nice guy and harmless?"

" I did not...I walked away." Illya raised his hands in innocence.

"Tovarisch, we have enough sneaking around to do in our jobs; you shouldn't have to do it in your personal life too? Why shouldn't you be able to enjoy a little happiness without worrying about someone else knowing about it, who cares what people think?"

"Napoleon you are right. Elliott said the same thing," Illya spoke, knowing he was deliriously happy with her.

"Why did he feel the need to hide it?"Illya thought," Eventually the gossip would fade away into oblivion and besides, Waverly was condoning it?"

He grabbed his temple again, suddenly feeling pain again...

"Napoleon, I have a meeting with Waverly in twenty minutes, I need to concentrate on my notes if you do not mind?"

Illya began massaging his temple again as he looked down at the dossier on Owen Smythe, feeling very uneasy but he did not know why.

Elliott sat in Alexander Waverly's office having been called in earlier for a private conference.

"Miss Mc Gowan, I am going to tell you this in the strictest of confidence...as you are now the closest thing to next of kin that Mr. Kuryakin has for the moment.

"Excuse me sir?" She was surprised at that statement but feigned ignorance.

"I am aware of your on-going relationship with Mr. Kuryakin among other things...shall we say?"

Elliott suddenly panicked, wondering if Max had broken his word to her.

"Outside of East Berlin, Mr. Kuryakin and Mr. Solo were sent on a mission to free a number of high ranking operatives and security personnel from around the globe from being auctioned off to the highest bidder...the orchestrator of this scheme was none other than Owen Smythe."

Elliott listened passively, not letting on that Illya had told her some details of the assignment.

"We were all deceived as they were unknowingly lured into a trap...Smythe intending to add Mr. Solo to the auction block and apparently Mr. Kuryakin was reserved for Smythe's personal attention...some sort of vendetta for his involvement in Ireland, it was surmised. Mr. Solo escaped, foiling Smythe's plan for the auction, but unfortunately the prisoners were murdered...all except Mr. Kuryakin. We know that was tortured by Owen Smythe but has no memory of his miraculous survival and escape. And now in the light of his current medical issues we are now concerned that Mr. Kuryakin may be developing a psychological problem. Dr. Schneider is sensing that Mr. Kuryakin has undergone some sort of mental trauma and now the symptoms he is displaying are indirect result of it."

"It seems that Smythe was able to access file 40 records, how he managed that, we are still investigating as the access codes have been since been changed. The records that he viewed were specifically in regards to Mr. Kuryakin's private background with the GRU. Were you aware that Mr. Kuryakin nearly died in the gulag as a young man.

"No sir." Illya had told her much, but never spoke of this to her.

"The GRU sent their trainees to the Solovki camp in the Solovetsky Archipelago on the White Sea...a southern inlet of the Barents Sea. There they were to learn to endure the most arduous of situations, apparently there was an individual who had it in for Mr. Kuryakin, taking his internment in the camp seriously. Mr. Kuryakin was starved and tortured brutally...if it had not been for the intervention of his GRU sponsor, one Viktor Karkoff, he would have died. It would stand to reason that Smythe may have used this information to cause him some sort of psychological trauma...we are not sure. In any event, Mr. Kuryakin is not a well man because of something was done to him...it is entirely possible that Owen Smythe may come after you as well to exact his warped revenge."

"It has also been pointed out to me that Mr. Kuryakin's headaches and epistoxis have only occurred in your presence or mine...no one else's. I am unsure of the significance of this as yet. Therefore, given your close relationship with Mr. Kuryakin, I am asking you in the mean time to keep a close eye on his behavior?"

Elliott was not sure if she was happy about that request...being asked to essentially spy on Illya, but she realized it was for his own good.

"Alright sir, I'll keep watch over him." she agreed.

The door to Alexander Waverly's office opened and Illya Kuryakin walked in carrying the file on Owen Smythe.

"Ah yes, Mr. Kuryakin, please sit down." Waverly gestured to him.

Illya dropped the file on the floor, immediately drawing his special from it's holster, aiming in the direction of Alexander Waverly.

"What the deuce?"said Waverly.

"Illya!" Elliott screamed," What are ye doin'!"

He didn't hear her; his eyes were glazed over concentrating only on the figure of Waverly. Kuryakin raised his left hand pressing his fingers to his temple as his nose began to bleed heavily. That's when he fired his gun at the "Old Man."

The internal security alarms went off, Klaxons blared, lights flashed.

Miraculously, even at close range the bullet missed, striking the console just off to the right of Waverly.

Elliott dove at Illya kicking the weapon from his hand. The Russian grabbed her, wrapping his hands around her throat with a powerful grip, his lifeless eyes changed and were now like a crazed animal's. Elliott struggled but could not free herself of his hold on her neck.

Napoleon Solo and a security team charged into the conference room with their weapons drawn.

Illya suddenly released his grip on Elliott leaving her gasping for air. He staggered backward a few steps, staring at his hands; his look now changed to one of horror and disbelief. Then his gaze went back to Elliott, as he reached out to her with a shaking hand. "Help me?" he whispered, then collapsed to the floor.

Napoleon moved immediately to his partner's side calling out to Waverly as he did so. "Are you alright Sir?"

"Fine Mr. Solo...fine," he answered seemingly unfazed by the attempt on his life.

Napoleon cradled Illya's limp body in his arms. "Elliott you alright?"

She didn't answer as she leaned on the conference table staring down at the Russian.

"ELLIOTT!" Solo called to her again, this time the sharpness in his voice called her back.

"What happened?"

"He tried to kill Mr. Waverly" she answered, her voice was weak with shock. " He just walked in, pulled his weapon and took aim at Waverly and fired, then I disarmed him... he tried to strangle me? Elliott ran her hand through her hair, then dropped into a chair at the conference table in shock at what just happened.

"Sir? asked Napoleon.

"That is exactly as it happened." Waverly said.

A team from medical arrived and along with the security team, rolled Illya Kuryakin on a gurney to a Medical holding cell.

"So Illya aimed at you and missed Sir?" Napoleon asked.

"Yes, apparently so Mr. Solo."

Napoleon asked Waverly to show him exactly where he was standing, then examined the console where the single shot from Kuryakin's special landed.

Illya was brought to Medical but despite Dr. Schneider's efforts; he was unable to revive the agent.

Napoleon walked Elliott up to be examined and have her throat checked as it was swollen and bruised. "I can't believe he tried to kill Waverly...and me?" Her voice sounded so very hollow and lost.

Napoleon put his arm around her..."I know Ellie..."

She stopped, suddenly beginning to cry and Napoleon wrapped her in his arms like a protective cocoon. "It's alright honey, I know it's hard to believe."

"Listen...something is not right here" he said," I think that Illya deliberately missed when he shot at Waverly, and he really wasn't trying to kill you with his bare hands...otherwise you'd be dead."

Elliott pushed herself free of his arms looking quizzically at him.

"Do you really find it plausible that Illya Kuryakin could miss a shot less than twelve feet away?" he said to her," The bullet landed in a console on the conference table to the right of Waverly...Elliott, Illya always fires his warning shots low and to the right, which is exactly where the console was. And when he attacked you...he stopped himself. What was it he said to you before he collapsed?"

"Help me...he said help me?"

"Why would he try to kill the two of you then ask for help, unless he was compelled to do it...and was resisting it."

"But he's had plenty of opportunities to kill both Waverly and me?" Elliott asked," Why was it today, why at that moment?"

"Elliott, have you and Illya been together in Waverly's office with him at any time since we returned from Berlin?"

She thought for a moment. "None that I can recall?"

"I think Smythe did something to him...maybe brainwashed him to do this, and I think Illya was fighting it." Napoleon said," Suppose that you and Waverly had to be together in the same place at the same time...maybe that was the trigger?"

Napoleon handed Elliott his handkerchief to wipe away her tears. "Both Waverly and Dr. Schneider felt there was a psychological problem causing the headaches and nose bleeds...they thought Smythe did something to him too." Elliott added, "maybe those symptoms were signs that he was fighting what ever was going on in his head...we need to talk to Max!"

"Interesting hypothesis," said Schneider after Elliott and Napoleon presented their theory to him." I'm afraid, until Illya comes to we can only guess as to the reasons for his actions."

"How long before you think you can revive him Max," asked Napoleon.

"There's no telling...he is now displaying the classic symptoms of catatonia, though I would describe it more precisely as catalepsy. He has severe muscular rigidity, his limbs are remaining in one position as if frozen. I am getting no response to external stimuli and his breathing rate has slowed. Isolated cataleptic instances such as this can be precipitated by an extreme emotional shock and we know he's been through enough of that lately?"

"You say Owen Smythe may have had a hand in this? I think I will look at that formula for that mind control drug and see what I can find. Perhaps I need to look at his serotonin and dopamine levels...I didn't test those?"

There is a condition called " toxic serotonin syndrome " that exhibits cataleptic-like symptoms; since the mind control drug initially affected those two neurotransmitters... you know, I have a feeling we may be on to something here?" Max smiled.

Elliott was let into Illya's cell. He was laying there motionless, hooked up to a heart monitor and IV, his arms stiff at his sides with his fists clenched tightly. His eyes were wide open at the moment, but unblinking. The only sound was the steady beep...beep...beep of the machine registering his heartbeat.

"Illya?" she whispered," Can ye hear me?" She switched to Russian, hoping he would react.

"Illuysha, Ty slyshish; menya...eto Elliott. Ya zdes', chtohy pomoch'vam.

Vy menya slyshite_ can you hear me...it's Elliott. I'm here to help you. Do you hear me?" she pleaded, touching her hand to his head. She began to cry again, holding his unyielding hand to her face. But there was nothing, no reaction from him at all.

Dr. Schneider and Napoleon stood outside the door. When suddenly an alarm sounded at the nurses station. "

Doctor Schneider, code blue secure room number seven! " came the message on the PA.

Shit! yelled Schneider...Illya's coding!" He opened the door as the crash team arrived to assist.

"You out now!" Max shouted at Elliott, and Napoleon took hold of her hand pulling her to the doorway.

Max grabbed a long syringe containing epinephrine from the crash cart; raising it up, he brought it down in a stabbing motion pushing the needle through to Kuryakin's heart, injecting the hormone and neurotransmitter in an attempt to start it beating again.

"Bag him!" Schneider ordered. Nurse Walsh quickly intubated the Russian, placing the plastic tube carefully down his trachea, with a bag valve mask attached, that she squeezed, manually ventilating Illya's lungs. Max began external cardiac massage, pushing down again and again on Kuryakin's chest.

"Come on you God damn stubborn Russian, don't you give up on me now!" Max shouted at him.

Dr. Schneider stopped the compressions, listening carefully for Illya's heartbeat with a stethoscope. He shook his head.

Napoleon held Elliott tightly as the two of them stood watching in apprehension, holding their breath waiting for the sound of the sound of the heart monitor to begin again...

"Are you going to call time of death Doctor?"asked Nurse Walsh.

They could hear nothing but the flat-line tone of the heart monitor.

"Time of death 12:07." Max pronounced sadly.

"Oh God...NO?" ILLYA! Elliott cried out, sobbing, burying her head in Napoleon's chest nearly collapsing. Solo was dumbfounded...his partner and best friend was dead.

"Napoleon! I told you to get her out of here!" Max Schneider gritted his teeth in anger.


	8. Chapter 8

Napoleon supported Elliott in his arms as he walked her to the bench in the corridor. The woman who once warned him that she was"dangerous" was now an emotional basket case.

"Oh my God...what am I going to do without him?" she whispered, trembling has she buried her head into his chest.

"Ellie," he spoke softly, fighting back his own tears. We both know this could have happened any time...it's one of the risks." he said trying to convince himself that would some how ease the pain.

"Napoleon ye don't understand. I am... I'm pregnant" she whispered,"then sobbed again," He never knew...I never got ta tell him!"

"Oh God?" Napoleon moaned, holding her tight, unsure what to say to her.

Illya found himself standing alone on a dark road, there was a full moon in the sky night sky with mist swirling all about him. He had no idea where he was...he just knew he had to hide. They were coming for him, to punish him for his crimes. "kill kill kill" the voices echoed all around him.

"But it wasn't my fault." he whispered to the darkness." He did it to me. He forced me. "kill kill kill" the words repeated "kill kill kill."

YA na budu eto delat'_ I will not do it!" I refuse!" he cried out. "kill kill kill"

He looked down at the gun in his hand..." I will not!" he said, dropping it.

But you did it, the voice hissed at him...you killed them. "kill kill kill".

Illya cried out, covering his ears with his hands, falling to his knees.

"kill kill kill" You don't deserve to live. "kill kill kill" over whelmed with the guilt. Yes I did it to him. "kill kill kill" I tried to stop..."kill kill kill." I deserve to die..."kill kill kill." I strangled her. I deserve to die...he repeated it again. I deserve to die again" giving into the the pain of what he had done..."kill kill kill " Illya let himself yield to the voice, to the madness "kill kill kill" suffer "kill kill kill." He embraced the despair. "kill kill kill yourself. DIE!" the voice now ordered him and he had no choice but to comply.

He suddenly heard another voice as death was already enshrouding him.

"Oh God! NO! ILLYA!"

She called to him...her voice willing him back. She was not dead. He had to go back, he had to find her. "Annushka, lyubimoy_ his beloved," was alive?

Schneider rushed out into the corridor running to them, grinning from ear to ear.

"He-is-ALIVE!" he called," It has to be a miracle! His heart just started to beat!"

Max Schneider stood in front of them with his hand on his head in disbelief. "I have never had a patient come back like this... I don't know..maybe the epinephrine had a delayed affect.?" He tried to rationalize what had just happened.

Elliott blurted out a tear-filled laugh, suddenly blessing herself. "Holy Mary Mother of God, thank You." she whispered.

Solo wiped the tears from his eyes with his hand then stood up smiling.

"Napoleon...it was the damnedest thing, I went to switch off the heart monitor when all of a sudden there was a single blip. Then slowly there was another then another, slightly a-rythmic but a heartbeat! I checked the lead on the EKG...then I saw it. Normal sinus rhythm! He must have been slow to respond to the epinephrine," he repeated himself," I'm just not sure...right now but who cares? He's alive and stabilized that's all that counts?"

"Is he conscious?" Solo asked cautiously.

"Not yet," Max sighed," I guess I can go start that research now and see what I can come up with? You go ahead in and see him if you want, just keep it brief. I can't believe this really happened?" Max mumbled to himself practically giddy as he walked away, astonished by the Russian's seemingly miraculous recovery.

Nearly a month passed with no change in Kuryakin's condition. He responded to being fed liquids and baby foods so it was deemed unnecessary to put him on a feeding tube. But that was it; he reacted to nothing else. Elliott's heart was breaking as she helped to feed him. He was like a helpless...mindless child.

"What if he was trapped like this forever, alive but not alive?"

She refused succumb to that thought, holding on; keeping her hope that was her faith as it reached out it's hand to her during her moments of despair. Elliott prayed more than she had prayed in years...

Both she and Napoleon visited Illya often, though they were both back in the field again and constantly jockeying themselves to return to medical as soon as they arrived to headquarters from their assignments.

Elliott now three months along in the pregnancy could only see a little "baby bump" when looking at herself in the mirror as it was still not yet noticeable to anyone else...but signs of it would be visible soon enough as she was a small woman.

She was careful to cover herself as she began bringing things into Illya's hospital room in hopes they might stimulate his senses in some way. She tried scented oils; first peppermint, orange, then she tried lavender and he sneezed making her hopes rise, only to be dashed as it was a simple "autonomic allergic response" said Schneider and not a sign of any conscious behaviour.

She had a small music box that Illya had brought home as a gift for her one day. It played the melody to Debussy's "Clare de Lune," "moonlight " in French. He said it reminded him of her. It was a lovely gift and she would open it, playing the music when he was away on assignment and apparently he did the same when she was gone as well.

Elliott put the music box on his bed table, playing it every time she was there in hopes that it would draw his mind to thoughts of her and help guide him back from where ever his mind had taken him.

She would watch Illya carefully as the music played, hoping there would be some sign...his eyes were closed now but she could see there was something going on. Max called it rapid eye movement and a sign that he was in there somewhere, dreaming.

Schneider said the catalepsy was due to his emotional trauma...but what was it that was keeping Illya from waking? What was happening in that stubborn head of his? She just had to figure out a way how to get Illya Kuryakin to come to...

Illya felt terribly cold and alone, he was walking along the road, now brighter as if he were caught at that perfect moment just as dawn begins, when there was only hint of light. He saw shadows creeping around him, drifting in and out like an ethereal mist...muffled voices calling to him. He was afraid of them...it was the voices of the dead calling to him.

He heard her voice. Had she too had become part of his nightmare? Was she truly alive, or a spirit who had joined the other dead to haunt him? He could not get away from them, the voices...he was trapped in this lonely place, lost not able to find the way out...the way home. He did not want to hear the memory of her voice echoing around him, yet he craved it.

He heard her calling him, pleading for him not to leave; then he heard music...a music box and he felt drawn to it...so familiar. He knew if he could find it; he somehow knew he would be safe. No, she was not dead, he convinced himself. He finally called to her again and again, but she could not hear him...

He fell to his hands and knees on the road and cried, screamed her name, sobbing.

"Illya? Where are you my love? Come back to me?"

"ELLIOTT! he screamed then hearing the music again; he ran towards it but then it stopped." Did he deserve her after what he had done? Perhaps he only merited punishment..."was this his punishment? His personal hell? he thought in his confusion.

"Hi there tovarisch? How you doing in there? Say I had a great evning with this girl from the lab...imagine that, me dating the brainy type..."

"Napoleon! Help me please? I AM LOST...I am lost." Illya's voice faded.

I do not know what to do? He dropped down, curling himself into a ball, feeling afraid. He could not go to her...not after what he had done. He needed to pay for his crimes. Illya did something he had not done since he was a child...he spoke to God, asking for help.

She was feeling a little down as she sat on the bench outside Illya's room sipping a mug of tea that Nurse Walsh had given her, when Napoleon arrived.

Illya had few visitors. Mark and April came for a quick visit after they heard the news of the assassination attempt. April offering her strong words of encouragement.

"I don't care what anyone says. Illya would never have done what he did willingly...you remember that." April said, hugging her.

"Elliott luv,"smiled Mark,"It'll be alright, Illya...he'll come around you watch."

George Dennell stopped by, offering his condolences, a few people from his lab. She had even heard Waverly came down...he never came down to visit an agent. She realized how few friends her Russian truly had. Well at least she and Napoleon were there for him.

She had not seen much of him lately, but knew he had been into see his partner by the little tokens he had left, telling her he had been there...little notes of encouragement, boxes of chocolate and even flowers...ones that he knew Illya was not allergic to. Little touches of thoughtfulness that made her smile.

"Hi ya Ellie, how are you?" he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Feelin' a bit blue right now, there's been no change at all...Napoleon" she voiced the concern that weighed heavily on her," What if he never wakes up? Her eyes filled with tears, but she fought them back. It was becoming harder to do though as her hormones were wreaking havoc on her emotions.

"Look Elliott, I've been thinking." he paused," If Illya doesn't come around...if they say he'll be like this permanently. You'll need someone to kind of help you both...you and the baby that is.

"This is going to sound strange..." Elliott could hear the nervousness in Napoleon's voice, "but would you want to get married...in name only that is. Just so the baby would have a legal father? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Oh Napoleon, how chivalrous of ye... that's one of the kindest things I've ever heard, but my answer would have to be no darlin'...ye have a right to a life of yer own. And besides...yer going to be Uncle Napoleon aren't ye? So if the offer of help still stands, I'd prefer it from an Uncle?"

"UNCLE?" They both repeated, laughing at it.

"It was good to hear her laugh." he thought.

Napoleon put his arms around her, suddenly finding himself filled with the urge to kiss Elliott, really kiss her. He leaned in towards her... giving her a peck on the forehead instead. He was developing feelings for her and knew it was wrong. She was Illya's and he had no right to have any desire for her. Napoleon said a silent prayer for his friend's recovery and to give him strength to resist falling prey to his emotions.

The offer of marriage he made was a genuine one, complete with feelings and devotion attached, though he kept that from Elliott . He could never let her know...She was his friend...it had to stay that way and could be nothing more. She would be Illya's always the thought; resigning himself to that, vowing to take care of her for his friends sake."

Doctor Schneider and Dr. Dennison appeared around the corner, approaching the two agents.

"I have some good news my friends" Max announced, "My instincts were right about Smythe and the Mind Control drug...Illya's serotonin and dopamine levels were all out of kilter."

"He's been given a transfusion in an attempt to flush any toxins out of his system and I'm hoping that with some dietary treatments; we can get his readings back to within normal range. I'm going to introduce a drug developed in the last couple of years called benzodiazepine. It's a psychoactive drug used to enhance some of the neurotransmitters... technically a sedative, but it has been useful in treating cases of catalepsy."

"But a sedative will make him sleep Max won't it? How is that going to help him?" Elliott asked.

"It is also a muscle relaxant and it should help the rigidity and tension... maybe enough to wake him."

"When are you going to try it?"

Max looked at his watch..." Actually, he's getting his first dose as we speak."

"And how long before you expect to see some results?"Napoleon asked.

"If there's any improvement...it should happen within the next 24-48 hours."

"If?" Elliott repeated.

"Elliott, nothing is guaranteed. All we can do is hope right now?"

Dennison finally spoke, "We have to get him to wake up once he relaxes, given the circumstances of the catalepsy...the extreme emotional trauma. I suspect he hasn't been willing to do that."

"That doesn't make sense?" she said looking confused.

"Think about what he did Miss McGowan. Mr. Kuryakin tried to murder you and Mr. Waverly. I am sure he is experiencing guilt and remorse...maybe fear. You need to keep talking to him." Dennison advised," I think he can hear you...let him know that it's safe, that's it's alright for him to come back. Give him as much stimulation as possible."

Then Dennison gave them the bad news.

"If Mr. Kuryakin doesn't come around in another week, he will have to be transferred to a sanitarium in upstate New York, as the Medical wing here is not equipped for long term care."

Elliott and Napoleon glanced at each other in concern. UNCLE was going to write Illya off; sending him away in a kind of banishment. He was no longer of use to them...to Elliott it was like a death sentence. Illya would be left to exist in a vegetative state in some nursing home...she would be lucky enough to see him once in a while.""Up state New York?" she thought to herself," It might as well be the moon?"

Twenty four hours later there were a few first subtle movements as Illya began to respond to the sedative administered by Dr. Schneider.

"Did you see that?" Napoleon said." his hand moved."

They watched as Illya's hands began to slowly unclench. His body relaxed, looking as though he were merely asleep now. Then he suddenly became fitful, tossing and turning. His head shook back and forth as if he was denying something . He moaned constantly and then there were tears running down from his eyes as they remained closed.

The agents decided to double-team the Russian, bombarding him with stimuli. Time was against them now and there was a sense of urgency that overshadowed their efforts.

Elliott brought in his jazz albums, playing his favorite, Coltrane's "Violets for Your Flowers"...the sultry saxophone seemed to calm him but he still would not wake up.

Napoleon began to talk to him constantly, with a marathon sessions, recounting the details of their past missions, suddenly realizing that Illya's body movements increased every time there was the mention of Napoleon having been in danger. Solo had an idea... he put his communicator near his partner's head flicking a switch, making it sound, seeing Illya's head turn ever so slightly in response, listening to it.

"Channel D..."Napoleon said loudly, filling his voice with emotion. " Illya...I need you! I'm in trouble!" seeing his partner flinch but nothing more. It seemed as though Illya wanted to come to him but something was stopping him.

A communicator sounded," Illya, I need you. I'm in trouble." The Russian heard Solo's voice calling in the darkness. Napoleon needed him! He wandered, trying to find him...but he was still lost. He wanted to find him but felt afraid again, wanting to hide...to feel safe; guilty at his inability to help his partner and friend.

Elliott called out to Illya struggling to maintain courage born of was despair, feeling drained and exhausted as she leaned in, whispering softly into his ear, praying that he would listen to her. If this would not call him back then perhaps nothing would. Then it would be over and she would lose him forever?

"Illuysha, come back to me? YA tak lyublu tebya_I love you so much!"

"Ty mne nuzhen...my nuzhdaemsya v vas. Ill'ya y sobiraetes' byt ottsom. Vash rebnok nushdae˙ sya v vas...pirhodite domay_ I need you...we need you. Illya yer are going ta be a father. Your child needs you...come home? Your child should not grow up without a father!"

Suddenly Illya's eyes began to move rapidly...he moaned again but this time he spoke; the words were unintelligible. Then his eyes fluttered open, looking around in confusion.

"What happened?" he rasped, barely able to speak.

"Napoleon! " Elliott called out to him sobbing with joy,"He's awake! Oh my God he's awake! Yer back!"she laughed.

Solo rushed to the bedside, hugging Elliott, then leaning forward to his partner smiling, saying the familiar words,"Welcome back tovarisch!"

Illya reached up with his hand, grabbing Napoleon's lapel, weakly pulling Solo down towards him."I am going to be a father?" he uttered the words softly . Then smiling slightly; he closed his eyes again.

Kuryakin spent another two weeks in medical working out in rehab rebuilding his diminished muscle strength. He worked hard to rehabilitate himself and was unusually calm, even cooperative and very determined.

His hearing into the attempted assassination of Alexander Waverly and Elliott Mc Gowan was over and he had been absolved of any wrong-doing, having recounted the entire torturous episode and methods of Owen Smythe's brainwashing and conditioning. Schneider and Dennison corroborated their findings along with Napoleon's theories. The agent conditioning and security controlling UNCLE's file 40 would be updated because of this incident.

The Russian's change in demeanor was a pleasant and unexpected change for the medical staff...but they still remained wary, after all a leopard couldn't change his spots, remembering Kuryakin's past behaviors. Illya finally insisted though to Dr. Schneider that he was ready to be released as the two of them were together in the rehab room.

"Illya," Schneider said," when you receive a medical degree then, and only then can you make such a determination. It wouldn't have anything to do perhaps with the fact that Elliott is due home tonight?

The job had to continue and Elliott had been sent on assignment with her new partner, Ari Ziv to the middle east. The two of them managed to successfully destroy an entire Thrush satrap in Syria, acquiring a book of new Thrush security codes.

Illya blushed then smiling at Max Schneider; he stepped up to a set of parallel bars, taking a moment to raise them up. "Let me show you Max...then you decide right now if I am fit enough for discharge or not. Fair?"

He hopped up to the bars, supporting himself effortlessly on his arms, then power-lifted himself to a handstand. He walked across the bars on his hands, then reversing his grip he rolled forward flipping over in a tucked dismount landing with perfect balance on his feet.

"Yes?" he asked, facing the doctor as he straightened his sweatshirt.

Schneider shook his head and laughed,"It would seem so!" He filed his medical report to Alexander Waverly, releasing the Russian to two weeks of in-house light duty before returning him to active status, as Illya had already passed his psyche exam with Dennison. The new psychiatrist passed as well...

Illya contacted Elliott via communicator, no longer concerned about who might be eaves dropping.

"Annushka are you feeling alright?"

"Illya, I'm fine! " she laughed," Just because I'm nearly four months pregnant doesn't mean I'm an invalid? Ye Russian's haven't cornered the market on being tough ye know?" she said playfully. "We Irish are a mighty race!"

"Well this Russian is only concerned about one Irishwoman and their child right now. I am out of rehab and on light duty for another week...then back in the field." he sighed in relief.

Elliott took note that he did not say the word "light duty" with his normal disdain. I'm looking forward to my homecoming?" she whispered..."Illya I have ta go, they're calling our flight. Mc Gowan out."

Illya smiled...his plans were falling right into place.

Elliott and Ari's flight arrived twenty minutes early and several hours later the two agents were finished with their debrief. Ari as she suspected had a hot date lined up and Elliott chuckled at that thought, seeing many traits similar to Napoleons in her partner. Napoleon was after all was good role model.

"Elliott, go home. I will write the reports and I promise they will be perfectly accurate!

"You have a date don't ye?"

"Not until later...it's Frannie from Security, she's still on duty. You go home, I know he's waiting for you...go!'

Elliott hesitated, but she wanted to see Illya so badly. This would be his first night together in since... she suddenly couldn't remember how long. She took Ari up on his offer, but threatened him jokingly, pointing a finger at him, "Those reports better be done correctly now...Thanks Ari." she said winking at him.

She left her partner heading up to her office, as it was peaceful there and no one would bother her as she need to file a few papers before leaving. She walked in as the door opened in silence, finding a single long stemmed red rose and a note on her desk. She smiled, already knowing who it was from. Lifting the rose, smelling it's wonderful fragrance; she read the note written in his neat handwriting that read simply, "My place 7pm. IK."

She looked at her watch...6:40 happy now she had taken Ari up on his offer. It was uncanny with the timing though and she wondered sometimes if her Russian was psychic. She smiled as she headed down to the the exit in Del Florias, carrying the rose in her hand.

Elliott was oblivious to the glances from her fellow agents...they were becoming less frequent now, though she and Illya were "an item" still, and it was becoming obvious that Elliott was pregnant, carrying Kuryakin's child...but the office gossips had moved on to new topics. She and Illya had quickly become old news.

It seemed like it had been ages since she had been with her Illuysha, though they had been parted longer in the upset and trauma that made her feel too like Illya as if she had woken from an endless nightmare. The last conversation she and Illya had before leaving for assignment was again about moving into his apartment. It no longer needed to be such a great secret and that was a great relief to her. That apartment would soon be home to a family of three.

Elliott climbed the three flights of stairs carefully, then knocked a little code on the door, suddenly remembering that Illya had told her that he had installed miniature security cameras in the hallway and could now see her.

The door opened, finding herself suddenly pulled inside...her instincts to resist ready to kick in, but then she saw that it was Illya. He drew her into his arms and kissed her passionately.

She pushed him away saying,"Ye are lucky I didn't knock ye one?"

He smiled then pulling her back, kissing her a second time then he bent down giving her belly a kiss as well."

"Welcome home."

Elliott suddenly realized the apartment was filled with several bouquets of roses and lilies and baby's breath...her favorites.

"Illuysha, they're beautiful. She looked about, seeing her Irish lace curtains were hung and her orchid from Jean-Paul sitting on a table by the window. She slipped her rose into one of the vases, then detected another scent, something delicious.

"Food?" she looked warily at him, You...cooked? Boshe moy_ my goodness, what did they do to you in rehab?" knowing that Illya was never one for cooking; he'd spent too many years alone eating take out or at the commissary.

"So my darlin' buachaill, what is it...smells delicious? What is it?"

"Never mind," he smiled," You sit and relax, put on some music. Dinner will be ready shortly." He walked to the kitchen then returned carrying a glass of mineral water with lime, handing it to her.

Elliott eye it warily."This is one thing I do not like about being pregnant...no liquor. Oh well," she sighed, taking a sip, making a little face.

Illya headed back into the kitchen. She could hear dishes rattling and the oven door opening and closing. She watched with amusement as he set the table, offering to to help, but he insisted that that she sit and relax.

"How very domestic of ye Mr. Kuryakin." she giggled.

He carried a platter and several serving dishes to the dining table.

"Dinner is served Mademoiselle." he announced, escorting her to the table and seating her.

"Ye made roast beef?"she smiled, surveying the feast...new potatoes with gravy, brussell sprouts and Yorkshire pudding. And trifle for desert.

"Kuryakin, ye have outdone yerself...ye realize this is going to spoil me? she teased.

"Sorry Annushka, do not get used to it. I have to compliment you; cooking is not that easy. I am sorry but I will have to be a chauvinist and leave the cooking to you if you do not mind? Besides you really do enjoy doing it do you not?"

"Well then, she laughed, popping a sprout into her mouth."then this makes this meal all the more delicious, since ye worked so hard at preparing it!"

The meal completed; they cleaned up the dishes together then cuddled on the couch. Illya put on the recording of " Violets for Your Fur," and as the sensuous music played they kissed.

Feeling warm and safe in Illya's arms, Elliott began to doze off.

"Time for bed, " he whispered.

Illya took her by the hands, helping her up from the sofa, then lead her to the bedroom, opening the light.

"Time for your other surprise." he smiled.

In the corner of the bedroom was a lovely white wicker crib and matching dressing table.

"Illuysha! It's beautiful...ye have been busy!" She remembered just mentioning to him once in passing long ago how much she favored white wicker, and was amazed that he remembered.

"I was worried I would not have it ready in time, between this and the cooking...I was a little stressed? This was a difficult mission." he said quite seriously.

She ran her hand along the railing of the crib, seeing a plush Teddy Bear sitting on the mattress and picked it up, hugging it to her face.

"That is a gift from...Uncle Napoleon, " he smiled.

Elliott flopped on her brass bed...Illya had managed to move everything from her apartment with Napoleon's help and was happy to have her familiar things around her. She was tired and ready to go to sleep, the jet lag and pregnancy sapping her of energy. Illya helped her undress and get under the covers, then stripped off his own clothes joining her under the blanket.

He sighed, wrapping his arm around her, caressing her belly with his hand; happy they were at last together.

It was just before dawn that Elliott woke, reaching out touching Illya, softly caressing his face. He was awake instantly, and leaned over kissing her. They made love in the early morning hours, Illya being most gentle and careful with her.

It took Illya a little time to become accustomed to really living with another human being, the noises, the movement and the presence of someone else in what was once his empty space. He was just so accustomed to living alone but was truly happy she was there with him.

Elliott respected his privacy, knowing at times her sometimes brooding Russian needed his space and silence.

At the end of the week, Alexander Waverly called the both of them to his conference room for a special meeting. They knew he had to be aware of Elliott's pregnancy as well as their living arrangements and were not were not quite sure of what to expect.

"Please come in...be seated,"offered Waverly, putting his pipe down in the crystal ashtray. "I'm sure you both understand why you are here today...given the recent development in your relationship.''

Anticipating what was to come, Illya spoke. "Sir, I am aware that UNCLE has certain rules and regulations which have been violated...I will understand if you expect me to resign my position in section two. Or if you wish me to transfer to R & D, I will do so willingly...that is if you still want me sir?"

"Don't be so dramatic young man! Of course you won't be resigning from section two, either of you. You are far too valuable assets as field agents to this organization...As far as the "rules"; they are merely guidelines and are not written in stone! "

"However, Miss Mc Gowan, given your condition; it will be your decision as to whether you wish to remain a section two agent. Granted, having a child in this business we are in does complicate matters somewhat. I do not see that it cannot be managed in some way however, but again when the time comes the choice is yours and yours alone." He said that looking directly at Kuryakin.

"Thank you sir for your consideration." she said, " I will keep that in mind."

"Very well then, that will be all then," Waverly said, returning his pipe to his mouth and his attention to a file on his conference table.

Illya and Elliott looking at each other in surprise left the office feeling much better than when they had entered.

Alexander Waverly tapped his pipe in the ashtray emptying the bowl. He took a deep breath, considering the ramifications of what he had just done. Illya Kuryakin was once a project, a test. Elliott Mc Gowan was one in essence as well. And now they would be a different type of project...a family within section two. Their actions as a couple would set new precedent within the organization, just they had both done as individuals. "The world was ever changing," he thought," and U.N.C.L.E. had to keep up with the times. This would be a most interesting experiment?" He packed the bowl of his pipe with "Old Dog number 22" then lit it, puffing away. His humidor was almost empty, and wondered who he could send for a refill.

Five months later on September 10th 1966, Illya Kuryakin stood in Elliott's room in Mount Sinai Hospital holding a tiny baby in his arms. He was speechless as he examined the baby...all fingers and toes were there as well as a head full of blond fluff for hair. He was in awe of how tiny the child was.

"Look at that, "Elliott giggled as the baby made a face, " that's your scowl if ever I saw it papa!"

"Papa"...that held so many meanings for him and his thoughts went to his own father, his mother and the rest of his family now gone so long ago, wishing they were here more than ever.

"So what do ye want ta name him?" Elliott smiled as Illya handed their son back to her with care. She had left it completely up to him to choose the baby's name, and still he had not made a decision.

"Demya...Demya Ilyich Kuryakin." he smiled, touching his hand to his son's head.

It was nearly Christmas and snowing heavily as Illya found himself walking past the Church of the Holy Family on East 47th Street. It was a fairly new building, very modern looking, lacking the character of the old Orthodox churches he had been accustomed to back in Russia. He could hear a choir singing as their voices echoed out to the street.

Some times the snow cheered him as he permitted some happy memories of his childhood in Kyiv to return to him. He was conflicted about Christmas though; as he never celebrated as an adult, even though over the years Napoleon had tried to always "get him in the spirit." He found the whole thing commercial and decadent, but gave into his partner just to make him happy.

But now Elliott and Dimitry were another matter. He had gone along with her wish to have their son christened in the Catholic church and now of course, she wanted to celebrate the holiday as a family. He pondered over it as well as another matter that weighed heavily on his mind.

Elliott had given him an early Christmas gift just before he had left on his last mission to Hungary with Napoleon...it would be a dangerous one and she knew it. She placed the medallion around his neck, a medal bearing the likeness of St. Andrew, the patron Saint of Russia. He felt badly now that he had protested, reminding her that he did not believe in such things but then relinquished; seeing the hurt in her eyes.

Illya reached up, pulling the medallion out from beneath his shirt, grasping it in his hand. He had been thinking for a while now about his life... the escapes, the triumphs and failures and of all the people that had helped him in one way or another to survive. He thought most of all of the his miraculous survival eight months ago. He had were some vague recollections while in still in the cataleptic state in medical... he remembered asking God for help, going against his self-proclaimed disbelief in the existence of a God that he made as a child.

He thought about Elliott, her smiling freckled face and her love for him that broke through his icy heart and found his soul. It was she who saved him...she and their son, or was it God who helped him after all? Soul...the word had purely religious connotations and yet he a supposed non-believer used it. He realized there had been many things that could be called miracles in his life...could God have intervened on behalf a godless Russian such as he?

"Adestes fideles, Laeti triumphantes; Venite, venite in Bethelehem..." Oh Come All Ye Faithful...the angelic voices of the choir called to him.

Impulsively he walked inside, seating himself in a pew at the back of the brightly lit church. It was very different from those churches he recalled from his childhood...no icons, no brightly colored babushkas crossing themselves, bowing as they prayed. His mind flooded with memories of his own grandmother, when she had first taught him as a young child to bless himself the Orthodox way and to say his prayers...for nearly twenty three years he had denied the existence God...yet why was he here now sitting in this church and why had he prayed in his moments of despair this time, and not as a child when he had lost his mother and brothers. He realized he never really had stopped believing in God...he had just angry with Him.

Illya suddenly became aware of a presence beside him; he automatically reached for the weapon in his shoulder holster.

"May I help you my son?"offered the man, Illya realizing it was a priest, removed his hand from his special.

"Thank you Father, no. I was just thinking...remembering."

Hearing Illya's accent the priest spoke to him in Russian. "Vy ne iz eto prihoda ty_ you are not from this parish are you? I'm Father Stash...short for Stashinski." the older man said offering his hand to Illya. "I'm sorry, I know most of my parishioners...so very few young people as yourself right now stop in this time of year. They're too busy with all the hype of the Christmas season. Are you sure there is nothing I can do for you my son?"

Illya hesitated. "Father I am not Catholic. But would you hear my confession?

"Of course my son." The priest sat in the pew beside Illya, placing his hand on the Russian's head as he bowed it, Illya blessed himself in the Orthodox way as babushka had taught him, then recited a Russian prayer asking for forgiveness, stumbling on a few words, then remembering it clearly.

"Gospodi,tvoih nebesnyh darov lishen not. Gospodi, izbav' menya ot vechnyh muk. Gospodi, prosti menya, Ya sogreshil_Oh Lord, Thy heavenly bounties deprive me not. O Lord, deliver me from my eternal torments. Oh Lord forgive me, I have sinned..."He finished the prayer then whispered to the priest still grasping the medal of St. Andrew.

"Father," said Illya Kuryakin," I have done things, many terrible things..."


End file.
